Legacy of the Four Kings
by The Lore Keepers
Summary: After years of peace, the theft of an unknown artifact ignites a bloodfeud between long-silent comrades. Each vies for ownership from the shadows sending unwitting pawns to slaughter each other. How did this all begin? What powers does this item contain?
1. Foreward

Foreword

Before you begin reading, it is important to know that this story is written by several different people; these people obviously have differing writing styles and experience. As such, you may find that you prefer certain writers over others. However, the story- though sometimes sporadic- is sculpted by each chapter and therefore each chapter needs to be read in order for the whole to be understood.

At times when you find yourself missing your favorite author it is important to remember that each writer genuinely cares about the story and their work deserves to be read for the unique flare it brings to the tale. So please enjoy each chapter to its fullest, regardless of how it is written.

-_R.B._


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

_B.L._**  
**

Snap!

Harley felt the sharp pain shoot from her leg all the way up her back. She knew the three-story fall was going to be tough but everyone else seemed so unconcerned about it. Even now she could see the backs of the others as they took off without her. Tag, well ahead was already beginning to make the turn down the next alleyway.

"My leg!" she blurted out, not so much from the pain but more from the fear of being left behind. Immediately Kemper stopped in his tracks. He turned around and or a shadow of a moment his expression looked like he might leave her where she was. The expression was quickly gone though and he was on his way to rescue his young protégé.

Kemper knelt down next to her, "I'm no damned priest so don't expect me to do this every time you get hurt." He said, trying to settle his breath.

"Hold still."

Kemper said a short prayer and laid his hands on the young girls leg. A low green energy seemed to emanate from her leg and in a flash it was gone. Harley could still feel a great deal of pain but she could tell that her leg was strong enough to run on.

"Come on, or we'll lose the other two!" Barked Kemper, as he turned to run. He seemed much more annoyed about the delay now that Harley was out of immediate danger.

They turned into the next alleyway to see Tag and Milo standing with their weapons drawn ready to attack.

"What happened to you two!" whined Milo, relaxing his stance; "We had to turn back, we thought you'd been captured!"

Kemper spit on the ground, "Harley broke her leg, would have left her too if I didn't think she would squeal to that new pig Paladin." Kemper had his back to Harley but he could feel her eyes burning a hole in the back of his head.

"Are you all right Harley?" said Tag, concern was written all over his face, "Do you want me to carry your sack?" he tried to suck back the words as he said them knowing full well the response that was to follow.

"I can carry my own damn loot!" snapped Harley, "if you want my cut so bad why don't you just try and take it!" The guild's law says that any thief who can't carry what he steals forfeits his cut. Harley was surprised by her reaction as Tag has been her best friend at the guild and would never take her cut.

"Enough with that you two!" Kemper barked; "we don't need to start fighting with each other we need to start moving. I can all ready hear the guards coming." Kemper shot a look of displeasure Tag's way. The party re-started their trek back to the guild.

When they arrived at the "front" for the guildhall Kemper gave the secret knock and the door guard quickly opened the door so they could enter. Down the dark hall they went and into a large closet that served as a disguise for an elevator shaft that would eventually take them to the underground complex of rooms and halls that housed the many thieves and gangs of Bet Kalamar.

The ride in the elevator would take some time so the party of four sat down at once exhausted from their run from the authorities. While the men began looking through their loot sacks Harley scanned the other three faces in the elevator and pondered the new company she now kept.

Second story man, not exactly the type of job for a 16-year-old girl from a good home. Life doesn't always follow a straight path and Harley's young life has had its share of tough decisions. Decisions she doesn't care to talk about which is why she finds herself in the fold of the second largest thieves guild in Kalamar, not exactly a place where people are interested in asking a lot of questions. "Second story man," sounded easy enough, she took it literally until she found herself staring at the ground from a third story window.

Kemper, a half-elf, Harley could only guess at his age maybe 40 maybe older considering his Elven blood. Short platinum hair and a face lined from years on the street couldn't hide the sharp edge of his beautiful gray Elven eyes. Kemper knew the streets of Bet Kalamar better than anyone in the guild but he was no typical thief. Kemper has no interest in the slight of hand of a pickpocket or the clack of gears in a safe's lock. But that's not really necessary for a second story job, getting away with your loot is and no one does it better than Kemper. Kemper wasn't thrilled about taking on Harley but Nosh insisted that he have a team of four. Harley was a replacement for Jack who was captured a month ago and executed the next day. Kemper doesn't talk about Jack.

Milo Paxus, a short slender youth of about 18, he has long jet black hair and a nose too big for his face. Milo had been with the guild since he was 8. Nosh had caught him shoplifting from a wizards store and saved him from some terrible fate at the hands of the arcane shopkeeper. Milo dabbles in magic and serves as the team's arcane support and comic relief.

Tag Swift, athletic, agile, and as his name implies, blazing fast. Best known in the guild for being caught alone and naked in Nosh's bedroom by Nosh himself. Tag had once been on the top team in the guild, doing out of town jobs and hitting high security government supply wagons. After the "naked incident" Nosh sent tag to work with Kemper. Tag never revealed the reason why he was standing in the corner of Nosh's bedroom in nothing more than his baby suit and his relationship with the guild master has understandably never been the same.

KRUMP! The elevator had reached the bottom. Instantly the party rose to their feet.

"No screwing around, we're still on the job till we talk to Nosh," muttered Kemper.

Kemper opened the door to the hustle and bustle of a miniature city. The low ceilings and dim light make a strange setting for what appears to be a never-ending bazaar. Colors, sounds and smells that would be familiar in any marketplace permeate the complex of hallways and rooms. All types of unsavory characters roamed the halls of the secret criminal hideaway, along with children, the homeless, and hedge mystics.

The group passes the den of the Ghost Harpy's, a team of illusionists and enchanters, who use their subtle magic powers to pull off their jobs in an unorthodox manner. Three of the Harpy's sit on benches outside the den spitting out pumpkin seeds and glaring at the worn out crew of Kemper's team.

"I said no screwing around," ordered Kemper; "got it!"

Kemper kept his eyes forward. Milo and Tag on the other hand made gestures at the Ghost Harpy's making reference to their sexuality or what body part they might be sucking on. Harley wanted to join in but was afraid of what the Harpy's might do to her if they ever caught her alone someday.

Soon they found themselves in front of Nosh's chief bean counter Beverly. Beverly is a fat man with a bald scalp who never seems to get out of the padded chair that he had made for himself.

"Count this loot up fatty while I go talk to Nosh." Kemper spat, he had a weird relationship with Beverly and they seemed to enjoy giving each other a hard time.

Beverly seemed unprepared for a comeback and tried to play it of like he never heard the coment about his weight.

"Put yer sacks on the table and keep yer yaps shut!" Beverly snorted at Harley, Tag, and Milo.

Kemper threw his sack on the table and made his way into Nosh's office. Harley couldn't make out what was being said but she could tell that Nosh was upset about them being late. From her position she could see Kemper produce a small green pouch from his shirt and hand it to Nosh. This seemed to end the conversation about lateness and Nosh disappeared from Harley's view with the pouch. Nosh's main girl Thara exited the office and drew Kemper's attention to the office door where he spied Harley peering into the room. His expression changed to the familiar look of disappointment Harley often saw and Harley realized she was leaning a great deal to her left to see into the office.

"Hey Tag." Thara cooed as she walked past the three. She waved a little in his direction and sauntered her beautiful figure out of sight.

Milo and Harley turned to look at Tag with looks of shock and glee on their face; "What was that!" they said in unison.

Tag simply shrunk in his chair and wished for a potion of invisibility.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_M.H._**  
**

Duke Kelvin Robirius lounged in his study, drawing deeply from his magnificently crafted pipe as he cradled a rare volume containing works of a celebrated Brandobian poet. He absently stroked his graying beard as the pages faded from focus and his mind wandered, ruminating on the events of the past several weeks. None of the hundred of thousands of literary works in his considerable private library could provide him with sufficient whimsy and frivolity to make him forget, for even an instant, the seething rage he felt at having such a wrench thrown into his plans.

His angry reverie was interrupted by a rapid series of noises, most noticeably porcelain shattering on marble tile and an expletive growled in a voice he didn't recognize. Then, the sound of footsteps on stairs, growing gradually louder as they approached the door to the study.

"Milord, your guests have arrived."

His head butler stood in the door, dressed sharply in the elegant green and gold uniform of the servants of Robirius Manor's grounds. He was a skeletal man of indeterminate age, and many claimed he had an unsettling presence about him, though this had never bothered the Duke. Like most of those in his employ, Bilar was much more than he seemed.

"Ah, Temor's son is finally here. Thank you, Bilar. Tell them to make themselves comfortable. I'll be down in a moment."

"Yes, milord."

The butler didn't get far before Robirius stopped him.

"Bilar, what was that commotion before you notified me of the guests' arrival?'

"One of the guests refused to turn over his weapons at the door. When I insisted, he became violent, and pushed me into one of the displays. Your Scarnan Urn was broken in the scuffle."

Robirius frowned. He was very fond of that urn.

"That will be all, then."

Bilar vanished and the Duke closed his book and stood from his arm chair. He tapped the pipe out and rested it on a small tray, fixed his robes, and left the room to greet the visitors downstairs. As stressful and infuriating as the past several days had been, he had to admit to himself that he was somewhat looking forward to this meeting. Over the railing, he saw an enormous axe and a silver scimitar resting against one of his display tables. The haft of the axe was nearly as tall as a man and the blades nearly as broad, and the curved sword was clearly of superior quality. But only two weapons? Surely more of them would have been armed. He descended the stairs at a leisurely pace and strode into the parlor to greet his guests.

Bilar bowed and gestured into the parlor as the Duke passed. Three were sitting on the opulent sofas and armchairs that decorated the room, and rose to their feet with varying senses of immediacy. A stone-faced halfling possessing an unusually muscular build was already standing at attention by one of the armchairs. His wild hair was pulled into a high topknot, and he wore the garb of a slave with the sleeves torn away for ease of movement. Shackles still adorned his ankles, though the chain links had been filed away, right above those filthy halfling feet. The imported rug they were undoubtedly ruining was valuable enough to buy over a thousand of his kind.

In the corner of the room, a ways away from the other four, was an athletic looking man who couldn't have been much older than 20. He was wandering away from the Duke's collection of exotic liquors, moving to examine the stuffed body of a chimera, mounted to appear as though pouncing for an attack. It was a smaller specimen of the fearsome creatures, rearing no more than eight feet tall, but no less impressive for its size. His palm was full of cashews from the bowl Robirius's butler had set out for the guests, and he took turns flipping them lazily into his mouth and prodding at the beast. He was covered in a bodysuit of studded leather armor, and at his hips were two sheathed katars, weapons uncommon at the side of more honorable warriors.

The most conspicuous of the group was a towering human man with the build of an orc. Despite his size and obvious strength, it was doubtful he was older than the roguish fellow. He incongruously wore the ornate crimson robe of a fairly prestigious mages' college above the stouter boots of a warrior. Though he might have appeared to be dull at first glance, the sharpness in the young man's eyes - one green and the other brown - was merely obscured by the lines of worry creasing his face as he looked at the young woman by his side.

She was a short, slender girl dressed head to toe in a leather and silk gown of a black so deep that it drew the eye. The only skin that could be seen was her porcelain white face, broken by painted ruby lips and framed by silky ebon hair. She had the same heterochromatic eyes as the large man at her side, making it unlikely that they were not related. Though the woman's garb and facial features would normally mark her as a necromancer, the paranoid fury in her eyes showed far too much emotion for one who had any amount of experience shaping negative energies.

Finally there stood a well built man of average height, wearing a sleeveless, tight-fitting leather breastplate and green trousers. The Duke presumed his looks and demeanor would make him quite the ladies' man, and the confidence in his smirk and emerald eyes all but confirmed his assessment. Despite his slightly pointed ears, his was a human arrogance, not the aloof sense of superiority of a full-blooded elf. He immediately moved towards Robirius, one hand extending in greeting. This would be Limbold Temor, the son of the late Sir Levin Temor. The boy's heritage surprised the Duke initially, but he knew shouldn't have put it past his old friend to have a tryst with an elven woman.

"Duke Kelvin Robirius, I presume."

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you," the Duke said as he grasped his guest's hand, laying another hand on top of it. "If you don't mind, I'll dispense with the formalities and get right to the point."

"That's actually how we prefer to do things," the half-elf offered, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Excellent. The reason I've requested your assistance concerns a specific item that holds great value to me. It was previously kept in a remote location, but a month ago I sent a courier to retrieve it for me and bring it back to my estate in Bet Dodera. I initially called you here as bodyguards for the courier, to meet him in Bet Kalamar and escort him to the item's destination .

However, this morning I was informed that the item has been stolen, so instead I want you to retrieve it and take it to Bet Dodera yourselves. It is almost certain that one of the Bet Kalamar Thieves' Guilds is responsible for the theft, but none of my servants have the experience and specialized skills to tackle such a job, and I don't wish to involve myself personally. Levin Temor was a very good friend of mine, and your team has quite a reputation, so I have every confidence that your team is the right choice to complete this task expediently and discretely."

"Did the courier have any information regarding its possible whereabouts? Maybe he got a look at the thief?"

"Regrettably…" the Duke hesitated as he considered his words, "the courier will not be available for questioning."

An uncomfortable silence filled the room for a moment.

"And exactly what is it we'll be looking for?"

Robirius exhaled slowly. "You are to retrieve a small green pouch, velvet with a thread-of-gold tie. It will also bear a rune embroidered in gold. It weighs noticeably more than its size would indicate, even more than a similar volume of lead or gold. It may sound innocuous, but the care with which it will most certainly be hidden and guarded will mark it as my property. You are under no circumstances to open it, I demand that the item and its container be completely intact. If it is not, your payment will be forfeit and I will guarantee that no one will ever request your services again."

The black-clad girl's gloved hands squeezed into fists at this threat, her eyes narrowing and mouth forming the beginnings of a scowl. Then large man beside her placed a massive hand on her slender shoulder, which the Duke suspected was done not so much to calm her as to physically hold her in place. Levin's boy gave a small smirk.

"And the terms of the deal still stand?"

"Correct. Twenty thousand gold each, one thousand up front for incidental expenses and the rest upon completion. Should any of you meet with… misfortune, his share will be divided among the remaining members."

There was moment of silence at this caveat, but all of the team members slowly nodded in agreement. The half-elf offered his hand once more.

"Agreed. We'll head ou-"

"Shut up, Zerevyn." Robirius's eyes shot to the far side of the room, where the callow rogue had been inspecting an ancient urn with fingers that were undoubtedly covered in oil from the salted cashews. "Listen, Duke, I know you've hired mercenaries before, so I hope you weren't expecting to get out of this without negotiation. Just because you knew my dad doesn't mean I'll lay down for the first offer you make. But I guess I should expect such an arrogant assumption from someone who thinks his best friend's son is an elf."

Robirius gave a half smile at the impudence of the prodigal son as he revealed himself. He was somewhat disappointed when he saw the real fruit borne by his old friend's seed, though at the same time felt a bit relieved that Levin wasn't the father of a half-elf bastard.

"You've told us a great deal about how important the contents of this pouch are to you, but you've failed to mention exactly what these contents are. Now, I'm not going to make you tell us…"

Robirius's eyes narrowed and he chuckled to himself. He doubted there was anything this entire misfit band could _make_ him do.

"…but we do know that it's important enough to you that you'll go to this sort of expense to get it back, and you're hiring a third party to avoid being linked to it, and you refuse to tell us the what and why of what we're looking for. A man like you has more than enough resources to take this thing by force, but you want things discreet. You 're so concerned about any information getting out, that you'd only hire the son of a personal friend to do the job.

"And, the last few minutes notwithstanding, I'm certain you're too smart to think you can just kill us and look for another gang of dupes to do your dirty work. I know a bit about the world you're living in and I know the company you keep. You've got plenty of 'friends' who would love to bring you down, and you've got at least as many nosy servants who can be bought. Sure, your friends wouldn't bat an eye if they heard you'd murdered five mercenaries in your house. But that'd get them wondering what the mercenaries were doing there to begin with.

And murdering all of your servants, too, to make sure the details didn't get out? Your friends'll definitely know something's out of place when they see you dusting your own taxidermy.

"Fortunately for you, I'm still willing to honor my father's promise. And my team's willing to help me do it. But to ensure that we do, you're going to have to do better than twenty thousand gold apiece. What else've you got for us?"

The boy was perceptive, and knew when he had gotten leverage. Perhaps Robirius shouldn't have been so disappointed in Levin, after all. He thought carefully about his next move, turning and taking a few steps toward the parlor door.

"If you find this item for me," he paused, carefully weighing what he was about to offer, knowing for certain that it would close the deal, "I'll return your father's sword."

********************

Shortly following the negotiations with Robirius, the group took off on the road to Bet Kalamar, riding at a brisk pace until the early evening. As the sun neared the horizon and the horses began to tire, they had reached a stretch that passed through a large forest. They dismounted and waited as Zerevyn closed his eyes to commune with the surrounding land. After a few moment, he gestured to his companions and walked off the road, leading them to a large, circular clearing.

"So, what do you think?" Zerevyn stood in the center of the clearing, turning slowly in a circle beneath the twilight sky with his arms raised. He stopped and gave a broad smile. Even though it was the same every night they traveled, he loved to flaunt the survival skills and druidic connection to the land. "Perfect, huh?"

"Yeah, it's great. Again. Cadmus, tie up those horses. Thomberry, start unpacking the bedrolls. I'll be there in a minute."

Cadmus patted his steed on the nose and led the three horses to a stout oak at the far edge of the clearing. One of the larger horses belonged to Cadmus and Seremina, the other was Limbold's, but Thomberry would ride with him when the group needed to travel quickly. Zerevyn's was a tan horse of superior physique capable of incredible feats of speed and athleticism, something else that the half-elf loved to show off.

"Zerevyn, I want you to scout ahead to Bet Kalamar, see if you can find out anything about the Thieves Guild. Even if they don't have what Robirius is looking for, if anyone knows about it, that's where they'd be. It'll take us at least three more days before we get there, see if you can get back to us in two or so, that way we won't have to hunt you down once we reach the city. We're going to be losing a lot of time on the road, but this way at least we won't be wasting it."

"I'm not real happy I have to do all the work while you guys spend the whole day BSing with each other on horseback," he said with a slight frown that quickly turned into a smirk, "but it'll be nice to sleep in a warm bed with a woman on my arm instead of in a cold tent all by myself."

"Lucky you." Limbold patted his friend on the shoulder. "Godspeed, buddy."

Zerevyn took a small running start, and after only three steps leapt into the air. In the blink of an eye, the half-elf's form seemed to melt and draw in on itself, changing in midair to a majestic eagle which took off on tremendous gold-tinted wings. Limbold saluted his friend as he disappeared into the sky, then turned to walk back to help the others set up camp.

********************

After a short while, the fire pit was finished and lit and the bedrolls had been laid out in a semicircle around it. Limbold had begun assembling the small tents over them, and Thomberry was unpacking pots, pans, and rationed foodstuffs from the saddlebags to cook up a stew for the group. Cadmus had excused himself and his sister, something not uncommon as the mute – though still unpleasant – girl would get inexplicably agitated from time to time, and her brother was the only one who could calm her before she became violent.

"Thom, they've been gone a while. I'm gonna go see what's going on." Limbold brought the small wooden mallet down on the tent stake one last time and stood up, frowning a bit as he watched the stake fall over. He dropped the mallet and turned in the direction the twins had gone.

"Okay. Take care. You know how the girl can get." He spoke in his usual low, almost paternal tone. At 35 years, he was the oldest of the group, and Limbold was only 6 years old when his father had bought the Halfling slave as sort of babysitter, so he did look up to Thom berry - so to speak - almost as an older brother, or even father figure. The rest of the group - except the antisocial, irritable Seremina - all felt comfortable speaking to him or listening to his advice, and he never imposed it on anyone unsolicited.

"Don't worry about it. I'll be careful."

Limbold followed the trail through the forest that had been left by his companions, practicing the tracking skills that Zerevyn had been teaching him. It was admittedly easy, considering Cadmus and Seremina hadn't been trying to hide their trail, but he was still looking closely for the telltale signs of passage – a bent leaf here, a broken branch there, disturbances in the dirt where someone had tried to cover their tracks. In this case, the last sign had been replaced by an obvious trail of footprints, but Limbold tried to ignore those and follow the other evidence. He smiled to himself when he also caught the sound of running water, something less attentive individuals would ignore like any other background noise.

Eventually the trail stopped at an embankment that surrounded a lake fed by a stream tumbling over a small grotto, the trees opening up to reveal the twilight sky. The wide pool emptied into a stream that wound back into the darkness of the forest, and the water reflected the beautiful colors of the dusky sky. The scene was almost enough for Limbold to momentarily forget the era of war and hate that he had been born into and the unpleasant trade he had taken up as a means to support himself. He was surprised to feel what could almost be described as relief, being reminded that there was still such beauty in the world that was untouched by those like himself, people who were forced to perform unspeakable acts simply to survive.

Limbold was pulled from his reverie as he noticed Cadmus's enormous axe resting against a stout tree nearby. Its haft was designed to look like a wizard's staff, with a crystal ball held in a claw between the two massive halfmoon blades. He scanned the scene more closely, knowing that the siblings couldn't be far, and saw a pile of carefully folded clothes of the deepest black resting on a rock. A breath of surprise caught in his throat as his eyes found Seremina's slender form in the distance by the grotto, bathing waist-deep in the crystal clear water, her back to him as she wrung out her shining ebony hair. Her naked body was so pale that it made her nearly invisible against the white spray of the falling water, but he could clearly see that her entire body below her chin was covered in scarred, melted flesh, broken only by tiny small patches of her smooth, alabaster skin.

"You shouldn't be here," came a slow, taciturn voice, not a whisper but spoken at a careful volume that Seremina would not have heard.

Limbold had been so engrossed in the scene that he hadn't noticed Cadmus's approach, and the giant of a man was hardly stealthy. The hem of his crimson wizard's robes were tucked up into the sides of his belt for ease of movement through the undergrowth, exposing heavy leather boots and white breeches more suitable for travel. He wore his typical expression, a resigned half-frown that spoke of a life of endless trial. Limbold couldn't blame him for his nearly perpetual lack of enthusiasm, Cadmus had spent nearly his entire life caring for his psychotic twin sister at the expense of his own hopes and dreams – whatever those might have been. Cadmus took it in stride, and did occasionally allow himself to enjoy a post-mission celebration with his companions. He was a good man - _too_ good, Limbold sometimes fear, for the sometimes horrible work the group had to do from time to time. But they need a mage like Seremina, and they needed Cadmus to keep the volatile girl under control.

"I'm sorry. I was just making sure the two of you hadn't gone too far from the camp or gotten lost." Limbold quietly stood from his crouched position, leaving him still a head shorter than Cadmus.

"Seremina will be angry if she finds out you were here. I won't tell her, but you should go now. We'll be back soon." Cadmus rested a giant hand on Limbold's shoulder, forcibly turning him back in the direction of the camp.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, quietly making his way back into the woods. His apology was sincere, but as he walked back to the camp, he wasn't entirely sure _why_ he was sorry. Was it that he had disappointed Cadmus, the man who had traveled with him for so long, who had stood by his side as both a warrior and as a friend? Or was it the disgusting feeling of voyeurism he felt, having accidentally watched the normally frightening girl in such a private, vulnerable moment? Or was it disgust with himself when he realized he had almost enjoyed watching?


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_T.C._

With the wind at their back, they rode furiously to escape their pursuers., but it was no use. They gained with every moment that passed. Blood rushing through their veins, sweat streaming down their faces. Ordin looked over his shoulder and thought to himself that he would rather fight than run, but going up against eleven men with only six was a little bit of a stretch. He only had faith in three of his new companions. All the while, knowing sooner rather than later they would have to fight. On the horizon he saw the road disappear as it plunged into the dark forest ahead. That would make the best place for an ambush, he thought.

"Race for the trees!" he yelled to the group. "Aye!" they responded.

As they passed the edge of the trees, Loryn climbed a broad-leafed tree for cover to fire his bow. Giving a hardy dwarven yell, Silverbeard jumped from his horse, rolled, and vaulted to his feet. Ordin dismounted and stood next to his longtime dwarven ally. The pair waited on the road about 100ft deep in the tree line. Junip thought he could best help hiding in the bushes till the opportune time. He made his way to the back to the front of the bushes to let the riders go past him so he could surprise them. Pym stood a little behind Ordin and Silverbeard, shaking. Pym was not much of a fighter. The last warrior to dismount did so very calm and slow. Nesander, as he was known, was the last of the new guys Ordin had hired. Nesander slowly dismounted, and calmly reached behind his head and unsheathed his ornate greatsword. Confidently poised in an unorthodox stance, he waited for the enemy. Hunched forward, sword resting on his neck, his feet spread, the right one in front, the left behind him, he waited.

When their pursuers entered the forest, they came to a stop. They wore the blue uniform of the Rosaleta city guard. The eleven horses they rode were exhausted and panting. Each of them wore a simple Longsword issued by the Kalamaran government. One of the eleven trotted forward.

"Return what you have stolen, and surrender, no harm will come to you." The assumed leader ordered. "Otherwise you will be executed."

"Don't be stupid!" laughed Ordin; "do we look like we are surrendering to you!"

"Get ready for pain! Silverbeard added.

As the men dismounted Ordin, Silverbeard, and Nesander charged. An arrow whistled from the trees and struck one of the men as he spurred his horse forward, his limp body toppled backward off the saddle. One more arrow screamed out and dropped another before any could take cover. Ordin and the guard leader squared off, sword and mace clashed in combat. Silverbeard dashed past Ordin and engaged two of the younger looking guards preventing them from flanking Ordin. Nesander ran down one of the guards, spilling his stomach before he got a chance to dismount from his horse. The rest of the men dismounted and timidly joined the action.

Suddely Junip appeared from behind the bushes. Sprinting toward the fray, he leaped onto the back of one of the men engaged with Silverbeard and drove his blades deep into the guard's chest and neck. Another arrow pierced the air and found its mark in the chest of a guard about to strike Nesander from behind. Silverbeard gave his enemy a blow to his leg, and as he fell separated his head from his body. Ordin circled his adversary reigning down blows with his mace finding his intended target at will. With a final crushing blow to the skull, Ordin fell his foe, and quickly engaged another. As Pym stood back and away from the fight one of the guards made a run for him. Pym held his weapon tightly and tried not to shake. The guard stumbled and landed face down in the dirt just inches from Pym's boots, revealing Loryn's well placed arrows in the guards back. Not long after that were the sounds of battle replaced by pleas of mercy, soon silenced as they dispatched the last guard. Ordin thought to himself, it seemed it would be harder than it was. The new guys really worked out well.

"Well you guys really lived up to your reputations." Ordin told the group of mercenaries, "It is hard to find people of their word in this business." he said with a laugh; "I will speak highly of you to Nosh when we return to the thieves quild."

"You ok Pym," said Silverbeard "Ordin and I have got you through tougher scrapes than that."

"I wasn't scared at all." Pym responds; "I was just getting ready to make my move, but Loryn stole my kill."

The group laughs as they begin to collect themselves to continue the journey to Bet Kalamar. Ordin pulled Nesander aside and asked "where did you learn to fight like that?"

"Well long story short," Nesander explains; "I had some training where I grew up, but I learned this style from an aged gladiator whom I encountered while looking for an old girlfriend. After my mentor died in the arena I befriended Loryn to help me survive in the wild. Loryn is good at surviving and he is the only one in his homeland to escape invasion from the Kalamar army. Loryn can obsess a bit on getting his revenge but he usually keeps it in check."

"Your right that does sound like a long story." Ordin quipped.

With Bet Kalamar only a day's ride away they sleep only half the night, so they could reach it midday. Upon reaching the city Ordin motions for the group to join him in conversation.

Ordin whispered, "Listen I don't know what you guys have planned, but if you want you can come to the guild hall if you want. You can find some work there or you can join the thieves guild yourselves if you want to."

"I'm not joining any damned guild so just give me my cut now." Junip declares.

Ordin looks disappointed but he hands Junip his pay. Junip snatches the small sack from Ordin's hand and quickly disappears into bustling streets of Bet Kalamar.

Nesander and Loryn look at each other, "We'll come with you, we have some business to attend to at the guild. We are looking for someone, a girl, named Harley." Nesander says.

"Never heard of her." said Ordin, "but then it's been a long time since I've been back in Bet Kalamar."

After selling their stolen loot to a fence they make their way to the guild. Nesander had dug up some rumors that Harley was with this guild, so he is anxiously waiting to see if they are true. At the same time he is nervous, as to how she will react to seeing him again. Taking this job with Ordin was the perfect way to pay for the journey but also to gain access to the secretive thieves guild.

They reach a door to an unassuming storefront and Ordin knocks out some odd pattern. Soon enough the eye slit in the door slides open and a pair of eyes appear on the other side.

"Ghost ship!" says the voice behind the eyes.

"Hyperion." answers Ordin.

The door opens and Ordin shows them down the hall and through a secret fireplace into the colorful atmosphere of the underground city of thieves.

"Ok guys! Silverbeard, Pym, and I have to talk to Nosh and let him know we're back. Meet us at that hole over there where we can get something to each and we'll talk some more business." Ordin suggested.

Loryn and Nesander walk around and look in different shops to pick up supplies and quirky things they like. They pause to take in their new exotic surroundings.

Nesander leans to Loryn and shouts over the din of the crowd, "there is no way we are going to find Harley here, it's like finding a needle in a haystack!"

Just then Nesander is bumped from behind. Nesander turns around to see a girl and when their eyes lock they immediately recognize one another.

"Hey Harley," Nesander says gleefully, "I found you."


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_R.B._

_A few Elf's Years earlier…_

The nigh deafening roar of typhoon winds could not hope to supersede the thundering voice of Stirnoc the Sonorous; the title was certainly not given in vain. There was not a mob, banquet, or tavern that could hope to blot out his speeches. Never had any natural occurrence stifled his lectures, nor any man before, be it bard or general, possessed such stentorian might as emitted from those aged lips.

Line after arcane line vibrated through the surrounding air, constructing a complex weave of spell power. It expanded, compressed, vortexed, and rippled throughout the spell area, forever growing as it did. It would require a great deal of arcane understanding to decipher this spell's final form. It was not a spell you could find in any magic library in Kalamar, but rather the result of months of experimentation and research designed for specifically this situation.

Standing at the edge of a precipitous cliff, Stirnoc held in plain view the wanton might of a trio of tornados making their way across the bay. They had been given form only moments before and were advancing towards the unsuspecting port city with all the majesty of the gods.

The wind blew the grass beneath Stirnoc's bare feat sporadically. In the dim light that managed to filter partially through the clouds, the wizard cast his spell in complete solitude from all save the grass and the wind. This location was chosen for it gave the best view of the disaster unfolding, and was devoid of any trees or shrubbery that may catch fire should lightning fall. The wizard himself, certainly aware of such threats on this high peak, had previously cast a protective ward against electricity should such occur.

He wore his most unobtrusive and lightest robes for this occasion, their color being that of the deep sea and bound at the waist by a sash of the same color. The only other accessory present was a small emerald bag with leather thong. As the casting reached its final moments, he used one hand to remove from this pouch a few sprigs of garlic and a miniature horn, both of which he tossed into the magic maelstrom in front of him and waited for them to fully dissolve. While waiting, he prepared for the next step by pulling from the same bag a brass pipe.

Once the garlic and horn were gone, he ceased chanting and stuck the pipe between his lips, favoring it to the right side of his mouth. Now that he was done the major portion of the spell, the amorphous mass dulled in color and seemed to lose its arcane support, falling like rain down a glass pane. Stirnoc barked out a quick draconic syllable and inhaled mightily of his pipe. The spell energies flared to life again, and flew into the pipe's chamber. Once the entirety of the magic had been consumed, Stirnoc held it in his breast, feeling it burn his insides with arcane power. Once he measured the time was right, he slowly exhaled through pursed lips.

The long process to this point had allowed the trio of cyclones to venture dangerously far through the bay, coming very close to the port city. Drawn by the immense noise, many of the inhabitants had crowded to the piers. The vast majority of the throng had run away after a moment of recognition, though a few stayed behind. These had noticed the old man casting his spell out on the bluff utilizing either their experience-honed senses or much used detection spells. Even the most elder of this remnant felt the tug of curiosity more strongly than self-preservation. Life was often more interesting where there were wizards, after all.

And, at long last, the wizard would show them the spectacle they had awaited.

Stirnoc acknowledged that his timing had been a little off, the missing time lost somewhere during the casting or perhaps during the moments before the twisters had taken form, when he was doubting that they would appear at all. At this point, there would be a slight risk that his spell would not be as effective, possibly leaving one or even two of the tornados present. While that would certainly be an improvement, it was not an acceptable outcome given the amount of preparation this spell had required.

Taking the pipe in his left hand, The Sonorous filled every inch of his lungs with the salty air. He held it for but a second in which time it mingled with the magical energy there immured. Then, opening wide his ancient jaws, Stirnoc emitted a roar so powerful and fearsome that those hardened spectators on the distant piers could not help but tremble.

The spell did not produce an effect that could be determined by any detection magic locally employed. However a keen eye could have picked up the distortion that rocketed through the air from the wizard's lips. It moved with the undulating motion that is expected from sonic spells cast by the Master of Sound, but moved with such speed and irregularity that it likewise seemed unnatural coming from the old man. It widened and struck through all three of the tornadoes. The targets began to waver as the distortion interrupted their regular movement; the wavering seeming to spread both up and down the white cones, apparently fueled by the expended spell energy.

All three of the titans spun apart violently. Their pent up wrath was not left unspent, however. The collapse caused a terrible wind to spurn to life and great waves to swell and race towards the city. Perceiving the danger, the onlookers looked for quick shelter which most of them found. The unfortunate, however, were badly buffeted by pier implements and other unsecured objects; shorter and lighter victims were even blown into the air and thrown into the ocean or against walls and ship hulls. The wind and waves capsized several smaller boats and wrecked any ship that still had its sails raised. The few ships of large size were moderately damaged, though did not sink. Most of the piers were left empty, aside from clinging survivors, and needed a bit of repair.

But the destruction certainly paled in the possibility of what could have been; furthermore, the damage was milder than the naturally occurring storms previously seen here. All things considered, Stirnoc the Sonorous was satisfied with the result of his costly research.

Weary from the magical exertion, Stirnoc reached into his robe and pulled out, seemingly from nothing, another small bag. From this he drew some smaller bags of sand and lime as well as vial of water, which he used to cast a mumbled spell to turn the rain-soaked ground nearby into solid stone. Pulling yet a fourth item from the pouch, he placed a miniature clay chair that he had prepared ahead of time on the stone. Casting his final spell, the stone rose up and formed a larger version of the chair he had lain down. He moved his old, creaking bones into this seat and surveyed the setting sun as it began to meld with the edge of the bay. After resting for a short while, he produced a set of panpipes from the extradimensional space within his robes and began playing softly. The melody was somewhat queer; it's light dipping and peaking rhythm suggesting fey origin. The music seemed to have a restorative effect on him, though neither the pipes nor music emitted contained a hint of magic.

The old wizard played on for nearly an hour, performing 4 long stanzas in all. With the terminal note trailing peacefully off to sea, the sun disappeared beneath the horizon. Inhaling the salty, halcyon breeze, Stirnoc the Sonorous gave his mind its final moment of peace before turning it over to business.

"Tell me, are you overly patient or simply stubborn?" he questioned. His tone was powerful, though not particularly loud.

"I think it an honor to speak to so great a mage, which should not be wasted in haste," the young adventurer bowed.

Stirnoc remained seated facing the sea. "Well spoken," he simply said.

"I was impressed that you could accomplish such a feat with only that small _magical_ bag," the man intoned. "The _only_ other magic on your person is your robe, which was only active statically, thus providing no support for the casting."

"I hope that such an intelligent youngster as yourself would not think that limited magic detection spells, such as that lens over your eye, would be something to boast of. I trust you're merely stating the facts to flatter me."

"Oh, of course not, wise sir," he said quickly, though he could not fully conceal the surprise from his voice. "As you have said, I am merely addressing your arcane prowess."

"And, of course, whenever one praises another, it is because he's expecting something in return. So, state your name and your business with me so that I can get on to completing mine."

"I see you are a shrewd and frank man, Master Stirnoc, and I will be much obliged to comply promptly. My name is Levin Temor and I merely seek enlightenment. You see sir, I cannot possibly understand why anyone would go out of their way to save such a degenerate town of nonhuman and halfbloods. I think it might have been better to see Oloseta destroyed, then Kalamar could rebuild it into a more productive, more _human_ city."

Stirnoc chuckled at Levin, and finally turned to face him. "It may be more advantageous for the Bakars, and the artisans who'd be called in to build it, but that wouldn't benefit me one bit, would it? Instead, consider what Duke Hor'Bek would feel inclined to do when he finds out that his city was saved from utter destruction. He has enough on his plate dealing with political intrigues of other nobles. He would have Murolak handle all of the actual payment, and I'm certain that I can persuade him to grant me even more than the Duke intends.

"Then there are the Kalamaran officials. Recall how I said that the Duke of Oloseta was busy with the other lords. Now, if one of the more militant dukes was suddenly erased from the map, what do you think would be the first thing in the other noble's mind? Obviously, a great amount of land has suddenly been put up to fight over; land that is also closer to The Kingdom. I happen to have several tomes of war history in my study that would back this theory. The Bakars don't particularly mind wars within Tarisato, but consider how much manpower the dukes would be devoting to defending the Obakasek Jungle while scrambling to take control. What if, seeing Tarisato in a tremendous struggle, those barbarians from the jungle were to strike? Not only am I saving Kalamar from wasted time and resources to keep the dukes in line, but I'm also saving them from a possible war with the southern lands. How much do you think that is worth to the Bakars?"

Though Levin was trying his best to retain his composure, the wizard could tell that the boy was shocked at his schemes. _That's right, boy_, he thought with a grin, _perhaps it's time you reworked how you approached wizards. All of us are not merely lustful of knowledge._

Seeing, or perhaps realizing, that Stirnoc was done his monologue, Levin began the part he had planned ahead of time.

"W-well you see Sir," the wizard's grin was unnerving him- causing suspicions of invisible spells that were opening his mind to the wizard- but pressed on regardless, "I happen to be sent here directly from Murolak's side in hopes of determining your intents. And now that I know your plans of grandeur, I will return to him and tell him of them. And I shall be sure to include my suspicious, given your apparent preparedness for the event, that it was you yourself who brought about this event!" Levin put his hand into the air to punctuate the statement.

Stirnoc's smile grew a little more, _Yes, yes, here we are, finally to the blackmail._

Levin was allowed to stand there, finger to the sky, waiting for Stirnoc to become fearful and try to stop him. Stirnoc would not comply, but remained smiling at the adventurer who seemed to be trying to give the wizard his cue, as if this were some court play.

After allowing the young man to sweat for a few moments, Stirnoc finally spoke up, "Oh, yes, go ahead." He made a shooing motion with his hands. "You are now dismissed to go tell your master of my plan." Still smiling, he watched as the adventurer turned pale.

"Yes!" Levin exclaimed weakly. He composed himself in hopes of saving at least a little face. He continued with the bravado he had started with. "I will be off to Murolak to tell him of your intents and about my disbeliefs! I'd advise not setting foot within the city precincts! Murolak will have both the garrison and the constables on the watch for you! You have been warned, Elder Wizard!"

And with squared shoulders he turned and moved to activate the teleportation magic which had brought him to this cliff.

"The only place you're going, Adventurer, is back to your inn room! I have some more time to waste while the story of my heroics circulates fully through the city. I trust you are interested in how I saw through your best efforts."

Levin turned, stone-faced, and waited.

"Firstly, I'll be a feebleminded jester the day that an adventurer wishes for something so aesthetic as 'enlightenment.'" Stirnoc said the work mockingly. "If you are intent on using that excuse to gather information, next time come by foot dressed as a monk. Secondly, after acknowledging my shrewdness and frankness, you did not truly comply and speak directly to your question. Instead you tainted your question in hopes of directing my answer to where you wanted it. It was when you were doing this that you made your third, for you were certainly speaking truth when you spoke of the city as being degenerate. You truly do believe the normal kalamaran morals concerning humanoids and allowed it to taint your speech too much. For that reason, it was nearly impossible for you to be one of Murolak's men, much less coming 'directly from his side.' Now, the fourth mistake branches from the first and third. Since I was sure you merely didn't wish for information, it was obvious that you were simply gathering it to blackmail me. It was unlikely that you were simply allowing more time to go by before asking me directly for something; you had used that silver tongue of yours enough during the introduction to soften me up for something relatively simple. Therefore, your request held more weight than could be paid for with glibness and you would need to dig up the information necessary to use as leverage. Therefore, gathering blackmail was obviously your intent. So, I fed you all the information you wanted and, as expected, you came out with your indirect threat. As a final word of advice, I would think twice before trying to threaten beings who are far more powerful than yourself. It would have been easier for me to erase your existence than to give into the blackmail if I thought you were telling the truth."

Digesting every bit, Levin turned away again. In a sour tone he said shortly, "Very well. My thanks for the lecture. May your exploitations go well."

"Stay yourself, Temor. That 'lecture' costs more than your tongue has earned you. You'll tell me something else before you may go."

Exasperated and trusting that the wizard truly would bar his exit, the young man turned his head, "Name it quickly, I have spent too much time here already."

"What service is it you need that you would go to the extent of trying to blackmail a wizard as powerful as I?"

It was Levin's turn to chuckle, "I believe that your question is worth more than what I owe you."

The wizards smiled ruefully. _Certainly a greedy youth_, he thought to himself.

"Very well," he granted, "though I reckon that the difference is insignificant, I will grant you one last question. However you should be sure that the question is of proper proportion, else we may be here for hours."

"Then," Levin nodded towards the wizard, "what is the enchantment upon that pouch that you grip with such care."

"Nothing more than a cantrip to protect it from wear. As you state, it is quite dear to me." Stirnoc was slightly impressed that the adventurer had noticed his relation with the bag.

"Then I shall begin my story…"


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

_C.M.G._

"Ne-Nesander... How did you..?"

"Find you, my dear? That's not important. What is important is that I found you sooner than your father had hoped." Nesander paused. "Why are you dressed that way, Harley? I- I can't believe it. The rumors were true. That's it. You're coming with me!"

Harley scowled at Nesander, ignoring his question

"_Found_ me! I wasn't _lost_, you idiot! And I am certainly not going anywhere with you! Especially not home!"

Harley pushed past Nesander and continued on her way as if the two had never spoke

"Harley, is this some kind of joke? Because I don't think it's very humorous... Harley?"

Harley continued on her way once again, ignoring Nesander's inane question. Realizing that Harley was, in fact, serious about her previous statement, Nesander quickly chased after her.

"Play time is over Harley, you're coming with me!" Nesander grabbed her right arm firmly. "I have gone through a lot to find you… Including doing some things I am not proud of."

Harley tried to jerk her arm free, but Nesander was much stronger than she anticipated. "Don't cause a scene here, Nesander, you may end up dead."

"Dead?!" Nesander chortled. "From who, these peasants and thieves?" He laughed even harder.

Loryn, on the other hand, was much more aware of his surroundings and noticed the handful of shady individuals paying close attention to Nesander's antics.

"Perhaps her words ring true," Loryn said quietly.

Nesander now, too, was aware of their situation, and decided that perhaps doing things his way might not be appropriate.

"We need to talk, Harley. In private."

"Fine, we can talk, but you're not going to convince me to go back with you."

The trio made their way to one of the undercity's watering holes. The place was rank and it obviously offended Nesander's and Loryn's more refined olfactory senses. They sat down at a table closer to the corner of the tavern in order to keep their conversation quiet. A homely barmaid approached the group and asked for their orders.

"Ale," answered Nesander. Loryn motioned with his hand to indicate that he didn't want anything, still keeping a watchful eye on his new surroundings.

"I'll have an ale, also," replied Harley.

"Since when do you drink ale?" Nesander seemed appalled at the thought as the barmaid went to gather their orders.

It was quite obvious that Harley was uncomfortable, because she kept staring intently at the tavern's back room. Loryn took notice of this and changed his focus from his surroundings to Harley, anticipating when she was going to run for it. Nesander, on the other hand, went on and on about their travels - about the mercenaries they joined up with, and about the caravan guards they killed to keep their cover in order to get to this point. Harley lifted her hand to her mouth, covering her yawn at Nesander's stories, but otherwise kept quiet during the telling. After a while the barmaid returned, and as she placed the drinks on the table Harley saw her chance. Harley reached for her own ale but pushed it over into Nesander's lap, trying to look clumsy. Immediately Harley and Loryn stood up to help Nesander, and Nesander stood up as well to the let the fluid drip onto the floor. She took the opening and pushed Nesander onto Loryn, causing the pair to crash into the table and tumble to the ground. She quickly sprinted to the backroom of the tavern, pushing over barrels and shelves to block her would-be pursuers. Nesander and Loryn stood up as quickly as they could and gave chase. Harley exited the tavern and darted towards the Ghost Harpies' Den while grasping for something in her pocket. As she leapt up onto the Harpies' porch she handed one a tiny gem.

"Being followed," she said urgently.

The Illusionist took the payment and muttered a minor incantation, transforming Harley into a female dwarf. Harley took a seat on the porch in her new form and watched as Nesander and Loryn ran by, completely oblivious to her.

"What was that about?" The Harpy muttered coyly.

"You know when an ex-boyfriend just doesn't understand that it's over? When it definetly is? It's something like that. "Do you mind if I hang out here for awhile?"

"Not at all. In fact, I was just going to make lunch. Care to join me?"

"You know, that sounds great. You're a good friend, Dinar!"

"Honey, everyone's a good friend for the right price in this town." Harley cracked a smile at the jest and entered the Den, happy for the moment and looking forward to the coming meal.

*****************************************

Nesander and Loryn wandered about the undercity for hours with no luck.

"This is ridiculous Nesander, we will never find her now."

"Yes we will, even if we have to join the accursed thieves guild here. We will find her and bring her home."

"Can I be honest with you, Nesander?" Loryn continued without waiting for a response. "Why not just tell her the truth?"

Nesander stormed towards Loryn. "Are you mad? Do you what could happen to us if...?" Nesander stopped his sentence short when he noticed Loryn's gaze turn from him to their new company.

Four hooded figures stepped from the shadows, making their way towards the pair and doing their best to form a circle around them.

"Perfect! Just perfect!" Nesander exclaimed. " I suppose you four want our money or our lives, right?"

The four men said nothing, and began moving their hands in a conjuring fashion.

"They're casting!" yelled Loryn.

Nesander, not waiting to find out what they had planned, leapt towards one and skewered him with his blade, then promptly let go of the sword and slumped to the ground in a heap. Loryn's keen elven ears picked up the subtle sound of snoring coming from Nesanders lips.

"Damned sleep spells." Annoyed that he would have to face three opponents alone, and at such close range, he drew his short sword and dagger. He flicked the smaller blade at his foe to the right, hitting its mark square between the eyes, then lunged forward at his second target, dispatching him quickly. Loryn turned to face his last foe, only to see him lying in a pool of his own blood. A platinum-haired man was standing above the attacker's body, cleaning the blood off his sword.

"Th-thank you stranger," Loryn said, puzzled.

"I should be thanking you, my elven friend. Ye see, these four here have a bounty on their heads, and you and your sleeping friend saved me a lot of work. Where are my manners? The name's Kemper. And you are?"

"Loryn. And the sleeping one is Nesander."

"Nice to meet you. So, you're pretty good with that blade. You looking for work?" Kemper asked as he started to rifle through the attackers' belongings.

"Well," Loryn paused and thought briefly about what he was about to say. "Now that you mention it, we were looking to join a guild." Loryn paused again, realizing how stupid that sounded.

"Alright." Kemper stood and sized up Loryn, then shook his head. "Well, it's a good thing for you that my boss doesn't ask a lot of questions. So, why don't you wake up your lazy friend and follow me? I think I could use you two. Got a big job coming up, and I don't think my latest recruit is up for the fight."

Loryn knelt down to Nesanders sleeping body and slapped him around a bit until he came to. He then whispered into Nesander's ear.

"I think we just joined a thieves guild."

Nesander was still very groggy from the sleep spell, but was able to get to his feet with Loryn's help.

"Did we win?" Nesander slurred, then abruptly passed out again, falling forward into Kemper and knocking him to the ground.

"That was no regular sleep spell, my friend," Kemper groaned as he stood and dusted himself off. "Let me help you carry him back to my guild. I think I have an elixir there that will do the trick. Then, if you'd like, we can talk about the job."

The two men did their best to carry Nesander, but it didn't help that he was much larger then both of them. Kemper looked towards Loryn.

"By the way, don't expect everyone at the guild to be this nice. And don't expect to get a cut of the bounty from those men you helped me kill." Loryn just nodded and did his best to shoulder his share of the weight.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

_B.L._

The young Ghost harpy brought out 2 bowls of food and sat one of them in front of Harley who was still in the appearance or a dwarf. The stew consisted of potatoes, radishes, beets, onions and some kind of meat. The young many was dressed like some dark jester with purple and yellow diamonds all over his tight fitting clothing. His eyes were framed with a dark make-up of some kind but that could not hide the obvious signs of sleep deprivation.

"Well this is a fine meal… for a dwarf." Harley said sarcastically.

"Then I suppose it fits seeing as how you ARE a dwarf." The Ghost Harpy said with a full mouth. He looked up from his bowl and pointed at a mirror on the wall. Harley immediately jumped up and began inspecting herself. She knew that the harpy had changed her appearance she just wasn't sure what that appearance was.

"Ewww you changed me into a Dwarf!"

"Well it's a pretty simple spell and I didn't have a lot of time to think about it or get creative you know. What's the problem with being a dwarf anyway?" the Harpy exclaimed defensively.

"They're smelly and creepy and they have stubby little hands! C'mon change me back now this is disgusting."

The Ghost Harpy ended the illusion and the two of them resumed their meal.

"Your new to the Ghost harpies right?" asked Harley.

"Yeah that's right, how did you know that?" Dinar replied.

"Word gets around when the Harpy's bring in a new recruit, I always feel bad for you guys when they bring in someone new. How's the initiation going? I hear that they-"

"I don't want to talk about that." interrupted Dinar; "It's just not something I want to go into."

Harley was glad that Dinar didn't want to answer because she didn't really want to hear about what the poor boy was going through. It was well known that the Ghost Harpy's had bizarre initiation rites they performed on all their new recruits. New initiates are hit with everything from illusions and enchantments that scar them on the inside to beatings and rapes that scar them physically. Illusion and reality become distorted and twisted so much that the new initiate can never really be sure of what's real or perceived.

"I really didn't mean to pry Dinar I was just making conversation."

"Well let's talk about something else then," said Dinar. And the two resumed their conversation as though they had been friends forever.

When the two had finished their meal, Dinar walked Harley back to the porch of the den.

"Well this was a welcome break from my normal routine of mental torture and forced hallucinations, we should do this again sometime Harley."

Just then Nosh stepped out of the Harpy's den and nearly knocked Dinar clean over.

"Excuse me there son I'm a little distracted right now." said Nosh; "Oh Harley I'm glad to see you here it will save me a trip, come talk with me in private for a minute." Nosh ushered Harley aside away from Dinar.

"I'll be back in a sec Dinar." Harley called out.

Once they were out of ear shot Nosh started speaking in a low whisper. "Listen to me Harley, I have an important job for you." Harley could see Nosh sweating from his forehead.

"What were you doing in the Ghost Harpy's den, Nosh?"

"I was getting a special potion from their dealer, don't worry about that. Now listen in a couple of days I want you to take this letter to a man in Pekal. His name is Triscon the fiddler, he could be a little difficult to find, but he's a poet and musician so if you inquire among those circles you should be able to find him." Nosh looked around reached into his jacket and with trembling hands produced a green pouch, which he placed in Harley's hand. "This is a _simple_ bag of holding with about 200 gold pieces in it. It should be enough to get you to Pekal. Don't tell anyone that you are leaving or where you are going and don't draw any attention to yourself on the way."

"What's going on Nosh, why me, why not someone with more experience?" asked Harley.

"Don't worry about that dear, just make sure you get to Pekal and everything will work out." With that Nosh patted Harley's head and turned back to his office.

After Nosh had gone Dinar came running up beside Harley whose head was still spinning from the new turn of events.

"What did he say to you?"

"Oh nothing just a special job he has for me." Harley said nonchalantly; " Hey, umm so you want to play cards or something?"

"You want to play cards with an illusionist? You must be crazier than I am" Dinar said with surprise, and the two were off to find a deck.

*************************

Cadmus, Seremina, Thomberry, Zerevyn, and Limbold stood in the dark alleyway in front of the door to the thieves' guild. Zerevyn approached the door and quickly raps out a strange sequence of knocks. The group stands and waits. One minute, two minutes, three minutes, finally Zerevyn gestures for Cadmus to step forward and with one massive blow from Cadmus' axe knocks the door clean off the hinges. A stunned guard sat on a stool with his mouth wide open. Without a word Thomberry dashed forward and with a series of well placed strikes rendered the man unconscious. Limbold started making signals for the group to fan out and in a very short time the group had discovered the secret elevator shaft in the fireplace.

"Nosh, sir Kemper is here with some men see you." Thara said as Nosh entered the waiting room to his office.

Waiting in the room with Kemper were Nesander and Loryn who all stood up when Nosh arrived.

"I assume this is about joining our guild?" Nosh said while motioning them all to sit; "Your name is Nesander is it not? Ordin and the others were here earlier and mentioned that you were interested."

"Yessir, y'see I've always wanted to belong to a thieves guild," Nesander said like he was overacting some part in a play; "it has been a lifelong pursuit of mine since I was a little boy. Why I can remember sitting on my fathers knee---"

"Don't try and play games with me." Nesander cut in; "I know exactly why you are here, and who you are. Don't worry though you'll get your chance to bring Harley home. Right now she has a job to do and so do you."

Suddenly the entire room shook with the sound of a distant explosion. Dust and debris fell from the cave ceiling. Bottles and nick-knacks tumbled from their shelves. For a moment everyone looked at each other in silence. The door burst open and Tagg came flying into the room.

"Nosh! Someone is attacking the guild!" shouted Tagg.

"Yeah, we know Tagg the massive explosion sound tipped us off!" quipped Kemper; "Maybe you should figure out were Harley and Milo are."

Tagg snapped his fingers, "Good idea I'll go make sure they're ok," and quickly ran out of the room.

Nosh placed his hand on Kemper's shoulder, "I was expecting this, its just happening much faster than I expected. Take Nesander and Loryn out the back way and meet up with Ordin. I told him to stay at the Cunning Kobold Inn."

"Understood." replied Kemper his mood darkening by the second.

Nosh quickly wrote something down on a piece of paper and stuffed it in Kemper's pocket. "These are my orders in case I can't reach you for some reason."

"Wait does this mean we are in the guild?" Nesander said

"We'll see what's left of it by this evening before we start admitting new members." returned Nosh.

Out in the main cavern that served as the marketplace, the screams and chaotic scrambling of a mob scared for its life have replaced the hustle and bustle of normal daily activity. Five figures stood at the mouth of the cavern. A smoldering crater to their left replaced what was once a makeshift tavern. Energy crackled and hissed from the outstretched hand of Seremina who stood completely still as she stared out into the crowd with bloodshot eyes.

"Well that should flush out Nosh I suppose." Limbold said; "If he doesn't show himself soon hit that hole in the wall over there next Seremina."

Minutes past and the group began taking fire from the slings and arrows of some of the hidden citizens hiding in pockets of shadows. Each projectile bouncing off of Cadmus' invisible barrier, with a metallic ping, like the sound of a violin being plucked.

"Well I guess he's not coming out so we'll have to go get him." Limbold motioned to the group and began moving forward. "Lets move farther into this cavern and see if we can't round up someone to tell us were Nosh's place is. Thomberry- Zerevyn- break off and see if you can't beat some info out of someone who looks like they know something."

Thomberry and Zerevyn bolted off in different directions as the rest of the group headed down the center of the market under the protective barrier formed by Cadmus' spell.

The three invaders had gone about halfway down the cavern when progress was halted by four oddly dressed figures standing in the smoke from the earlier explosion. Their hair was wild and their eyes deep set. The leader spoke up above the din of the ongoing chaos.

"We are the Ghost Harpies and these people are our prey. As such they fall under our protection and we cannot allow you to---ghkkk"

His brief speech was cut short as a bolt of pure energy burned a hole straight through his throat. Dinar's eyes grew large at the sight of his leader's body dropping to its knees and falling on its face. Harley and Dinar had cut their card game short when the initial explosion happened and were watching the action with great interest from the safety of the den.

Dinar whispered to Harley (the invaders hadn't taken notice of them yet), "We need to get out of here now. Maybe we can slip past them while they are distracted"

"I think that's a good idea," responded Harley. Dinar cast an invisibility spell on each of them to help prepare them for their escape.

Spells flew wildly from the remaining three Harpies, each one countered and defended by Cadmus. Seremina began chanting and closed her eyes.

"Can we get going here this is taking far longer than I had intended it too," Limbold complained.

Seremina raised her arms and outstretched her fingers. Lightning shot forth from each finger sending the bodies of the remaining Ghost Harpies flying haphazardly in different directions.

"Where do you suppose you can get an outfit like that Cadmus?" Limbold asked pointing and their fallen adversaries.

"I wouldn't know Limbold." Cadmus replied seriously.

"You were supposed to respond with something clever. I realize you wouldn't know. Why the hell would I think you know anything about creepy outfits?"

"Sorry should I try again."

"No, no, no forget it the time has past, damn that would have been great!" Limbold said frustrated.

Just then Zerevyn approached dragging the battered body of Milo.

"What have you got there, Zerevyn?" asked Limbold.

"It took a little work but this guy says he knows which cave belongs to Nosh. It should save us a heap of time." Zerevyn gave Milo one last pull toward Limbold.

"Hey there pal," Limbold said unnecessarily loud; "If you lead us to Nosh we might not kill you today. Do you know how to open locks buddy?"

Milo nodded and stared at Limbold through his swollen eyelids.

"That's good, that's good you show us where Nosh is and then maybe we can use you as our lock-pick."

Cadmus helped Milo to his feet and he began to lead his enemies straight to the heart of the thieves' guild.

Harley and Dinar made their way to the elevator shaft that served as the main exit to the streets above. There were many other secret passages that could take you all over the city but neither Harley nor Dinar were ever given access to these closely guarded secrets. The marketplace was dead now if the citizens of this underground world new anything it was how to disappear when trouble came knocking. They stopped dead in their tracks, just out in the distance was a muscular looking halfling with shackles around his ankles. He appeared to be looking hurriedly for someone, peering into every alleyway and crevice. The halfling didn't appear to be interested in any of the living quarters, limiting his search to any stragglers in the street. As he came closer to Harley and Dinar, Harley held her breath to reduce the noise. She felt so naked hiding in plane sight but Dinar's invisibility spell must be working for the halfling seemed uninterested in them as he began to pass. Suddenly his head snapped in their direction and he leaped in the direction of Harley. Reacting to the sudden change of events Harley took a swipe at the halfling with her short sword effectively ending Dinar's spell. Thomberry was fast and avoided Harley's weak attempt at defense by sliding through her legs. The next thing Harley new she was face down in the dirt with Thomberry on her back restraining her arms.

"I can hear your terrified heart beating lady, did you think I would just let you stab me in the back!" Thomberry shouted.

Dinar made a mad dash with his staff held high in an attempt to smash the brutish halfling's expose back. Without even turning around, Thomberry reached behind him and clamped Dinar by the throat.

"I'll deal with you in a minute." said Thomberry pinching a nerve in Dinar's neck leaving him standing paralyzed on his feet. "I'm taking you to my boss he'll decide if your important enough to question." Thomberry whispered in Harley's ear.

"You let me go so I can gut you, you midget freak!" Harley screamed.

"Lady your way over your head here so lets keep the empty threats to a -." Thomberry had barley gotten the words out of his mouth when suddenly the glistening point of short sword protruded from his chest. He looked down in time to see the blade being pulled back through and blood began gushing out of the hole left in his chest. Thomberry slumped over onto Harley and she could feel his grip loosen around her wrists.

"Ahh! What are you doing to me you little bastard?" Harley turned over and tossed Thomberry limp body aside.

Standing at her feet with a bloody sword in hand was Tagg. He was breathing heavy. His eyes were locked on Harley. He reached down and helped her to her feet.

"I'm not sure what's going on or who these guys are but we need to get out of here now Harley. This guy is probably not going to be down for long." Tagg could see the numerous scars on the body of the halfling, large enough to be fatal on a figure twice his size.

"Wait, we can't leave without Dinar, he's been paralyzed." said Harley.

Tagg smacked the young Ghost Harpy in the face a couple of times, quickly reviving him.

"Uggh, what happened." moaned Dinar.

"We don't have a lot of time guys. There is another exit down this alleyway so come with me." Tagg ordered.

Tagg led Harley and Dinar to a small grate in the cavern wall and removed it to reveal a small tunnel just large enough to crawl through.

"Dinar you go first, this will take us to the surface. Harley, wait here for a second." Tagg held her by the arm and when Dinar had disappeared into the tunnel he pulled her in close and kissed her deeply.

"Now go Harley, I have to cover our tracks I'll be back in a sec, GO!"

A stunned Harley turned and crawled into the dark tunnel without a word.

Beverly was a large man but he was no warrior so he stood in front of Nosh's mirror straightening up his best outfit. Nosh had purchased this regal looking finery for Beverly and had hoped he would wear it to look more presentable to Nosh's associates. Until now Beverly had never worn the outfit but it seamed appropriate today. He put on his bravest face and tried not to flinch as the door to the office blew apart with a fireball blast. Scorched papers blew off the tables and they showered down slowly like confetti. Five figures stepped through the smoke into the room. Beverly recognized none of them but Milo who looked like he had been beaten to within an inch of his life. They walked right past Beverly like he was a piece of furniture straight in Nosh's private quarters. The leader started yelling he was obviously upset and began kicking over tables and chairs. On the floor of Nosh's room was an empty potion bottle next to the bodies of Nosh and Thara. One of the intruders grabbed Beverly by the throat and began shout questions to which he received no reply. Beverly was tossed to the ground and the four assailants continued arguing among themselves about what to do next. His fancy outfit damaged and dirty seamed a little ridiculous while Beverly lay on the floor. Nosh was dead and there was no one to blame for it but himself.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

_M.H._

The man in the studded leather armor had been throwing his temper tantrum for almost a solid minute as Beverly looked on, frozen in place. Slowly the fact that his employer – no, his friend – was dead actually began to sink in. Sadness began to swell throughout his body, weighing down his limbs and pressing on the back of his eyes. On the other side of the room, Milo didn't look to be doing much better, a tear slowly streaming down his cheek. Glancing down at the emptied potion bottle, he realized that Nosh had known something like this would happen. He had known, and he preferred to end his own life, and the life of his lover, rather than fall into the hands of these people. Shivering and sweating and hoping he'd been forgotten, Beverly cowered in the corner as the young man continued screaming nonsense and furiously throwing books off the shelves and pushing the remaining bits of furniture onto the floor.

"He's dead! The ONE man who we KNEW could help us is dead! We were THIS close to finishing the biggest contract of our lives!! What the HELL are we supposed to do now???"

The man stood in the center of the room, breathing heavily as he recovered from his prolonged outburst. When all seemed calm, he yelled another barely intelligible curse and grabbed Nosh's desk by one side. Heaving with obvious effort he tilted it up on one end and then pushed, flipping it upside down and crashing the beautifully crafted piece onto the stone floor of the cave. Another brief silence fell over the room, and Beverly could feel the blood pounding in his ears. The man's eyes began darting frantically around the room, studying each of his companions, then pausing for another moment.

"WHERE THE HELL IS THOMBERRY???"

The golden-haired half-elf gave a start and abruptly turned, bolting out the door and sliding his silver scimitar into his belt as he ran. Only a few feet from the entrance to Nosh's office the man's form began to melt, his stride never breaking as it shifted seamlessly into that of a running wolf. The furious man, obviously the leader, bent over with his hands on his knees, staring at the floor and trying to catch his breath.

"Let's go," he said between labored breaths, "We have to figure something out."

The giant, robed man with the enormous axe and the small black-clad woman moved toward the door, and Beverly sighed quietly, relieved that they were content to leave Milo and himself be. Almost as though these thoughts were being broadcast throughout the room, the leader looked up at the duo and wheezed to get their attention, then moved a hand from his knee to indicate Beverly. The enormous brute grabbed Beverly by the collar of his coat, silently dragging him out the door. Then the leader glared at Milo, who jumped with a quiet yelp and ran out the door after them. After a few more moments of recovery, the leader followed suit.

*

Nosh felt air rush painfully into his lungs, gasping loudly as his senses surged to life and he reflexively rolled onto his side. His chest burned as he coughed loudly and repeatedly, then with great difficulty managed to lift himself to his hands and knees. Pausing and trying to acclimate himself to his surroundings, he suddenly felt a spasm in his gut and lurched forward, vomiting out the contents of his stomach. Not wasting any time, he moved to where Thara's lifeless body lay, lifting her to his chest and shaking her sporadically as he looked down at the beauty of her frozen features. The Harpies' potion had worked, so well that he was nearly concerned Thara might really be dead, and if it could fool him then he knew none of the invaders would be the wiser.

He gave a start as he suddenly felt his lover's shapely body spasming and convulsing in his arms. Vomit bubbled up between her lips and she began to wheeze, her chest rising and falling with her first breaths. Lowering her back to the floor, he tore off one of her gossamer scarves and folded it over his hand, blotting her lips, cheeks, and chin.

"N-Nosh?" She managed to get out.

"Yes, Thara, it's me." He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, her breath still rank, but what should have been disgusting had never tasted so sweet. They were alive, and the invaders' target was safe in Harley's hands. "We're okay. We made it."

She looked up at him, still groggy from her awakening. Then, slowly, a smile crept across her ruby lips.

"We… did?"

"Yes, we did," he said, eyes shining with joy and relief as he stood and helped her to her feet. "But we have to get out of here. They've gone for now, but there's still a chance we'll be discovered."

Nosh pulled out one of the drawers in his overturned desk, groping around the hollow behind it and producing a large jeweled dagger. Stuffing it into his belt, he moved to a wall near the door and felt around for a few moments. His fingers seemed to disappear into the stone surface as he found the catch hidden behind an illusionary section of the wall. A door on the other side of the room slid open, its seams also concealed by illusionary magic, revealing an escape passage. Nosh grabbing Thara's arm, then picked up a lantern that had rolled onto the floor of the ransacked room and charged into the tunnel.

*

"So what do we do now?"

"I'm working on it, Cadmus," Limbold replied, pacing back and forth in the middle of the marketplace, one hand rubbing the stubble on his chin thoughfully. His intensity was momentarily interrupted by the brief thought that he should probably buy a razor in town or he'd likely have a full beard by the time they finished the mission. If they finished the mission.

"Maybe we could-"

"I'M WORKING ON IT!" Limbold had stopped his pacing as he screamed at Cadmus, anger blazing in his eyes and his hands clenched into fists like a petulant child. Realizing what he was doing, he closed his eyes and lowered his head, pinching the bridge of his nose while he attempted to regain his composure. "I'm sorry Cadmus, it-it's just that I'm frustrated, you know?"

The wide, sweaty man in the expensive suit was trying to flatten himself against the wall as Seremina studied him intently. She was like a cat toying with a mouse before eating it, her eyes mere inches from him as she moved her face back and forth across his features. Periodically she would loudly sniff at him, which elicited a frightened twitch and a muted yelp from the man, in turn bringing a wicked smile to her lips for just a moment. The thief boy, too, seemed too terrified to move as he looked on. It was difficult to say whether he was worried about what she was planning to do with the man, or worried that he might be next.

"We ALL thought this was going to be an easy contract, Limbold. Everyone's frustrated." No one would ever guess that Cadmus might be frustrated by his slow, patient tone. "What I was going to suggest is maybe we could try to find someone above ground who might be one of the Guild leader's confidantes."

Limbold screwed up his face in consternation as he realized what fool he'd been. He was so caught up in how simple and straightforward things were supposed to be that he'd gotten careless. He hadn't even bothered thinking of different angles, other ways to get the job done so that they'd have options. His team depended on him, and in his laziness he'd let them down.

"Okay, we'll call it a day for now. Maybe some rest will do us good, and give us all some time to think of a way to get back on track. It's not exactly a plan, but I'm not sure what else we can do at the moment. We could always try questioning these two again, maybe the kid or the big guy know more than they're letting on…"

Limbold turned his head just in time to see fine, jagged tendrils of electricity surge from Seremina's fingertips as she pressed her palm on his chest. They immediately enveloped the portly man's body and he began to shake and spasm until bloody foam oozed between his lips and the smell of cooked flesh filled the air. The thief boy gave a curiously feminine scream as the man's body slumped lifelessly to the floor, and Seremina turned to Cadmus with a childish grin.

"DAMMIT!" Limbold screamed.

Simultaneously, a resounding crack echoed against the cavern walls as Cadmus backhanded his twin sister, leaving an angry red welt on the girl's porcelain cheek. He scowled at the girl and she shrank back with a look of regret in her tear-filled eyes, obviously ashamed for having upset her brother. The twins' relationship had always amazed Limbold. If anyone but Cadmus had even _tried _that, they'd be a pile of smoldering bones by now. Cadmus's scowl slowly receded, and he turned back to address his leader.

"I apologize on Seremina's behalf," he said to Limbold, though the direction of his eyes showed the apology might have been directed more toward the young thief. He then looked back at his sister with another angry glance, causing her to cover her face and sob quietly. "We'll go up to the city and find an inn. You should wait to make sure Thomberry is okay before you join us."

Cadmus walked to where Seremina cowered by the fat man's corpse, cowering like a scolded puppy. The giant helped his sister to her feet, wrapping his arm around her protectively and smoothing her raven hair, then slowly walked her toward the elevator that would take them out of the undercity.

Limbold exhaled loudly and dropped to the stone-paved floor of the undercity's street, sitting with his knees raised and a distant look in his eyes. All around him were the bloodied and charred bodies of the former Guild members, but he barely noticed. His mind was far off, still trying to think of a way to salvage this debacle. Then the thief boy's shaky voice snapped him back to reality.

"Why did you do all this?" the boy asked, doing an admirable job of holding back the tears that were obviously welling up in his eyes. Limbold didn't even look up to respond.

"Shut up, kid."

"No! Not until you tell me why you had to kill so many of them! So many of my friends!" The boy had held out for a while, but a few tears began to stream down his cheeks.

"Because we need to get paid."

The boy blinked in disbelief, and his sadness slowly grew into anger.

"Because you need to get paid? That's it?? My friends had to die because you NEED TO GET PAID???"

In an instant, Limbold was on his feet, his hand gripping the boy's collar. He lifted the young thief until only his toes were touching the cobblestones of the market street, staring him right in the eye.

"Look, I'm not in the mood to discuss this right now. In fact, I'm not in the mood to hear you TALKING right now. So SHUT UP. I still haven't decided what we're going to do with you when we're done down here. Next time you decide to say something, you make sure you've thought long and hard about how it'll affect that decision. Understood?"

The wide-eyed thief snapped his lips closed, nodding.

Just then, Limbold heard the rapid staccato of footpads against cobblestone. Dropping the boy to the ground, he looked further down the street and saw a large wolf rushing towards him with a wounded and unconscious Halfling slumped on its back. The thief boy recognized an opening while Limbold's attention was elsewhere and scrambled to his feet, planning to make a run for it. Without even turning his head, Limbold hooked a leg onto the boy's ankle, sending him crashing to the cavern floor, moaning and writhing in pain.

As the lupine creature neared Limbold it slowed its run, its shape melting as it ran until the last few steps were made by Zerevyn's familiar half-elven form. He was cradling the bloody but breathing Thomberry in his arms. Already recognizing the fear and concern spreading across Limbold's face, the half-elf spoke.

"He'll be fine, he just needs to rest while my spell fixes him up. We're lucky I got to him in time, if it had been anyone but Thomberry, that wound would've killed him before we even realized he was missing."

Limbold snatched the halfling from Zerevyn's arms, hugging his small friend close and leaving his legs dangling comically above the ground. Limbold heard a groan against his ear as he cradled the body of his old friend.

"Put… me down… Idiot…"

"Thank the Gods," Limbold smiled, lowering the halfling to his unsteady feet.

"Don't mention it," Zerevyn quipped.

"Thanks, seriously. But there's no reason to waste any more time here. Cadmus and Seremina went up to find us an inn. We'll take a night to regroup and clear our heads, give Thomberry some time to mend, maybe even pick up a woman or two to blow off some steam…"

The half-elf gave a mocking grin.

"Just two? So I'm the only one getting laid tonight?"

Limbold gave a forced chuckle.

"Yeah. That never gets old."

They all nodded, acknowledging the plan, and the half-elf helped the unsteady Halfling towards the exit to the city above. Limbold held out a hand to the thief, who was still on the ground, clutching his ankle and moaning. Pulling him to his feet, he dragged the boy behind him as he followed his friends on the long walk to the elevator.

"Come on, we're heading back up to the city."

"I think you broke my ankle," the boy complained.

"It's just a sprain. Now shut up and keep limping."

"Are you gonna let me go now?"

Limbold remained silent, keeping his eyes on his friends up ahead. The thief swallowed thickly.

"Are you gonna kill me?"

Limbold looked down at the boy with an annoyed stare.

"What's your name, kid?"

"M-Milo," the boy stuttered, obviously caught off guard by the question.

"Milo. Okay, then. No, Milo, you're not going anywhere. See, my friends and I are new around here, and you know the city over and under ground. Better than us, anyway. No, you're going to be too useful for us to cut you loose. You're coming with us."

Milo's frown began to fade a bit.

"So… D-Does that mean you're gonna make me part of your team? Like… Like, I'll be a mercenary?"

Limbold rolled his eyes and began walking again, pulling Milo along and trying to ignore the boy's quiet groans of pain. At least the boy was trying not to make quite as much noise, even if he was just doing it in an attempt to win Limbold's favor.

"Shut up, kid."

*

Nosh held the lantern aloft as he dragged Thara through the tunnel, taking her down twists and turns until they reached a section that branched off in two directions. One led off into the darkness, the other was lit by sunlight streaming in through a hole in the ceiling, a stout wooden ladder lead up through it to freedom. Thara immediately ran for the ladder, but Nosh grabbed her arm.

"Don't, it doesn't lead anywhere. Just a forest in the middle of a deep valley."

He flattened his wiry body against the wall to slip past the ladder and into the small, shadowed area behind it, and began feeling around on the stone floor. Finally finding the well-hidden seams of a trap door, he pried it open to reveal a darkened shaft leading even deeper into the ground. He waved Thara over, who had a bit of difficulty squeezing her considerable womanly assets between the ladder and the stone wall. Nosh handed her the lantern and held the door open for her.

"Take the ladder down to the tunnel and follow it to the stairs. They'll lead to a forest, half a mile south of the main road. Follow it back to the city and wait in our east gate safehouse for a few days, the invaders should be gone by then."

"I'm not going without you!" Thara cried, absently taking the lantern from his hand.

"I'll be fine. I just need to make sure that Harley, Tagg, Milo, and Beverly are okay and got out safely. I'll be away for a few days, but then I'll come back, I promise."

Thara blushed a bit at the mention of Tagg's name, and then blushed more deeply as Nosh leaned in and pressed his lips passionately to hers.

"Don't wait up for me. I'll be fine," he repeated.

Thara reluctantly descended the ladder and Nosh closed the trap door over her, wiping the dust and grit of the cave floor to cover the seams. Forming a small smile, knowing that it might be his last for a very long time, he ran a hand through his thinning gray hair and walked into the darkness of the tunnel's second branch.

Nosh blindly navigated the twists and turns of the tunnel by memory alone, finally reaching a dead end. Groping around in the darkness, he finally found a latch on the wall and opened the small door to a crawlspace, covering his eyes as the torchlight from the room beyond pierced the blackness. The crawlspace led to another secret room, this one reserved for the especially valuable loot acquired on the Thieves Guild's most clandestine missions. But he wasn't there for the treasure. He pulled open a wooden panel on the opposite wall, which led into one end of a false crate in the Guild's public storage room, then punched open the opposite side and climbed out. He then strode through the storage room's door and into the open cavern of the undercity.

After almost two decades in this business, Nosh's everyday walk wouldn't make even the slightest sound. But today he took special care, crouching and slipping behind the stalls and shoddily built storefronts of the emptied marketplace. Steeling himself for the dash to the other side of the street, he stood and took off. He only made it a few feet before he heard a voice in the distance, getting closer. A voice he had hoped he would never hear again.

"Nosh, it's good to see you again," came the confident sound of that voice from his past, masculine but with a disturbingly musical tone behind it.

Two figures strode slowly along the main street. Stopping only a few feet from the bewildered Nosh, the speaker met his gaze with eyes of a shade of blue that did not exist in nature. An arrogant smirk marred his angelic countenance, and while he looked to be in his late twenties at most, Nosh was actually several years younger than the man. His pale golden hair spilled over the shoulders of his regal attire, finery that made Beverly's formal suit look like mere rags, and an intricately embroidered charcoal-colored cape draped off one shoulder. Incongruous with his noble attire was the breastplate of blackened metal that covered his elegant coat, as well as the sinister, blackened hilt of the broadsword at his hip. Nosh recognized that horrible sword, with its crossguard fashioned to resemble the skull of a black dragon biting down on the base of the blade. And, regrettably, he recognized man who bore it.

"I wish I could say the same, Gerres. How the _hell_ did you find me?"

"Well, we both know you're never seen or heard unless you want to be, and I should've known you'd find a way to hide yourself from scrying. It's a shame, what we had to do to that diviner to get her to cooperate, only to have her most powerful spells fail."

Nosh scowled at the man, infuriated but unsurprised by the matter-of-fact way he always discussed the atrocities he had committed.

"So, I had no choice but to personally walk these disgusting city streets from top to bottom and back again. It didn't take too long when I told my companion to scan for a train of thought that was faster than he could follow."

Gerres tilted his head briefly to indicate the man standing behind him, dressed all in black clothes with a black scarf around his neck and a longsword strapped across his back. The sword's unornamented hilt curiously stuck out under his arm rather than over his shoulder. The man looked bored, almost as if he was annoyed that he had been brought along. The only thing truly remarkable about him was his complete lack of any defining features - plain brown hair that was neither short nor long, brown eyes with no real emotion to them, and a nose and mouth average in proportion to his unremarkable face. Nosh doubted that, if questioned, he would be able to give an accurate description of the man. He doubted he'd even be able to recognize the man if he ever saw him again.

"You've always planned ten steps ahead of everyone else, Nosh. But this time, your brilliant mind actually gave you away. I shouldn't have put it past you to create an entire Thieves Guild coalition, painstakingly built over the course of over 20 years, unifying every single group of thieves and thugs in all of Bet Kalamar under one man, all for the ultimate purpose of performing a _single job_. Well done, incidentally. But what'll you do with the Guild now that it's served its purpose?"

Nosh kept his eyes on Gerres, trying not to betray the terror he felt staring down his former friend.

"Now," he paused dramatically, having always been one for theatrics, "you know what I'm here for, Nosh."

"Of course I do. But you're too late. It's probably miles away by now."

Gerres gave a soft chuckle that was somehow both sinister and melodic.

"It's strange that such a clever man can be such a terrible liar. Of course it's not here anymore. But you wouldn't have had time to send it far. So I'll give you another chance to answer me. Where is it?"

Nosh's eyes narrowed, and he spat on the ground in front of the angelic man.

"Fuck you, Gerres."

In a flash, Gerres drew his nightmarish sword, not even the slighted breeze stirring as it whipped through the air until several moments after it passed. Continuing the same motion of his slash, a snap of his wrist flicked a few droplets of blood from the blade, then returned it to its sheath before Nosh's severed hand hit the floor. Nosh dropped to his knees, howling in agony and covering what remained of his forearm in a vain and desperate attempt to hold back the fountain of blood. Gerres reached in his pocket and threw a silk handkerchief to Nosh, who gritted his teeth as he slowly wrapped it around his stump.

"There's a limit to my patience, Nosh. Again: where is it?"

Nosh squeezed his eyes shut, another growl of pain escaping through his clenched teeth.

"It doesn't have to be this way. Do you remember, Nosh? We were the Four Kings! We could've changed the world! Our dream isn't gone, it's just been postponed because we were too young to cooperate with each other. Come on, come with me. We'll retrieve the Item and travel to Robrius' estate, and offer him our invitation together. Then the three of us can finish what the four of us started."

Nosh knew why Gerres refused to refer to their treasure by name - it was safe from anyone who didn't know what it was, and the man with him was still within earshot. Gerres leaned toward Nosh, offering a strong hand with smooth, flawless skin. Nosh looked up from the bloodied bandage tied tightly over his wrist, desperation causing his resolve to soften despite how strongly he opposed this man's proposal.

Suddenly Gerres' ear gave an almost imperceptible twitch as voices could be heard in the distance. First arguing, then the rapid sound of a running animal's footfalls, then jubilation. The sinister man stood and turned to search for the source, his follower similarly shifting his attention, but the voices seemed to be quite a distance away. Gerres' eyes narrowed and he turned back to Nosh, but the King of Thieves was no longer there. There wasn't even a trail of blood to mark his egress. Gerres turned furiously to the other man, grabbing him by the heavy scarf around his neck.

"Why didn't you tell me he was planning to run??" He hissed.

The man's face showed no reaction to the rage burning in Gerres' stare and simply pointed to his forehead.

"Headache."

*

Harley climbed through the mouth of the tunnel, stumbling a bit as she pushed through the roots that obscured the escape route and tumbling out to the ground of a dried up river. Dinar moved just in time to catch her, not entirely strong enough to hold her but at least able to slow her fall and help her land on her feet. Dusting herself off, she straightened and turned to the Ghost Harpy. Her face bore both a look of concern under a deep blush that she hoped Dinar didn't notice.

"What took you so long, Harley? I was worried you didn't make it!"

She looked up at the exit of the escape route, covered by the tree roots that poked out from the dirt on the walls of the gully. Even after climbing out of it, it was nearly impossible to notice.

"Tag… he… he wanted to… tell me something."

Dinar raised an eyebrow, obviously having formed his own ideas about what this 'something' might be but unwilling to make any accusations.

"Whatever. So, what do we do now?"

Harley frowned, trying not to think of the friends she'd lost in the invasion. She hadn't seen her real parents since the day she'd joined the Guild, so she'd thought of many of them as family. She wondered how many were able to escape. She wondered if Tag had escaped. She shut her eyes and shook her head, forcing herself not to dwell on these things and to focus on more immediate matters.

"Nosh told me to go to Pekal. He wanted me to find a man. The Fiddler. I can't remember his name. Triscon? Tristan, maybe? I'd remember his name if I heard it. He's a minstrel, so he shouldn't be too hard to find. I'm supposed to give him a letter."

Harley reached into her belt pouch and pulled out a folded letter, closed with a wax seal the bore Nosh's signet – a compass rose with a fancy "N" covering it. She also pulled out the small green bag with golden embroidery, lifting it in her palm to show Dinar.

"He also gave me 200 gold pieces, so we shouldn't have much trouble getting a couple of horses, or even hiring a carriage to get us there." She smiled, dumping the coins into her hand, some of which spilled onto the ground. Even though there was far more than enough there to cover their travel expenses and then some, it was not nearly enough to account for the weight of the pouch. While Dinar was busy picking up the strays, she noticed that the bag was still just as heavy as it had been before she opened it. She placed the pouch in the palm of her other hand, resting it on the small pile of coins, and reached inside with two fingers. As she dug around, she noticed her fingers went far deeper than the pouch's outward dimensions should have allowed. Groping around with her fingertips, she thought she had brushed something a few times but just couldn't reach it.

"I think there's something else in here."

Dinar stood, the remaining coins in hand, and looked at the strange sight of Harley's fingers knuckle-deep in the pouch, when its apparently volume should've only had room for about half as much. His eyes lit up with a look of excited realization.

"That's a bag of holding!"

"Yeah, that's what Nosh said." Harley raised an eyebrow at him, wondering what his point was. She removed her fingers from inside and offered the gold in her palm to Dinar.

"What are you doing?"

"Just take them!" She snapped, giving a small smile to let him know that she wasn't actually annoyed.

Dinar shook his head slightly and offered his open palms, which were soon filled with the mixture of gold and platinum coins. She then took the pouch in both hands, prodding it with her fingertips. There was definitely something inside, but she couldn't guess what by the shape. It just seemed like some heavy, solid mass, and actually felt the same as it had when the coins were inside. She moved her thumbs into the opening of the pouch, spreading the drawstring wide and starting to roll the edges over.

"No, wait Harley, don't!"

But it was too late. Harley had turned it completely inside out, exposing the black satin interior. Curiously, the now-inverted bag maintained the same weight and shape as it had before. She glanced up at Dinar with a mocking stare as he gave a deep sigh of relief.

"What were you so worried about?"

"I've heard weird stories about these things. Like- like if you turn them inside out they turn into a black hole and suck you into the Astral Plane."

"That's ridiculous."

"More ridiculous than a coin purse that's a hundred miles deep??" Dinar retorted. He waited a moment with a gloating smirk, obviously pleased with himself for putting the usually sharp girl in her place. "Anyway," he continued, the smirk slowly fading as he became more serious. "I've heard a little about these bags. Some of the other gangs in the Guild have them so they can carry away more loot during break-ins. With a lot of them, you have to know what you're looking for or you won't be able to get it out. So whatever's in there, we won't be able to get to it without someone else who knows what it is. Maybe that's why we're supposed to find this Fiddler guy. Maybe he knows what it is."

Harley nodded.

"We should probably get going, then." She turned the magical pouch right side out and held it under Dinar's hands, brushing the coins back inside. When she was finished, she pulled the drawstring tight and stuffed it back into her belt pouch, then started climbing one of the embankments to the forest above.

"Wait!" Dinar called out.

Harley turned back to see the boy closing his eyes, chanting softly and bringing two fingers to his lips. Slowly drawing them away, he made a vertical spiral in the air, which shimmered and drew around him, clinging to his body and replacing his gaudy outfit with the cotton shirt and breeches of a peasant. Harley looked down, seeing that she now wore a similar costume. Giving Dinar a warm smile, she continued making her way up the dirt wall, intent on reaching Pekal as soon as possible.

*

Nosh's breath came through his teeth in hisses as he tried in vain to ignore the unbearable agony of his missing hand. He pulled himself up to the top rung of the ladder and threw his weight over the edge of the escape tunnel's opening, crumpling onto the soft dirt of the field beyond.

Laying there a while, trying to keep his thoughts from drifting as he started to feel lightheaded from loss of blood, he silently prayed that Harley and the others had made it out alive. He desperately wanted to go back and make sure they were all safe, as he'd originally planned, but Gerres was far too dangerous. Even Kemper and the two warriors he'd invited to the Guild wouldn't stand a chance against him. Nosh just hoped they all had the good sense to run.

His vigor renewed by his concern for his friends, Nosh began clawing at the ground with his single hand, trying to drag the rest of his body onto the soil, then pushed himself up to his knees to get a better view of the field beyond. The tunnel opened into an unobtrusive copse of trees, carefully chosen for the way it effectively concealed the exit. After a few moments of scanning, his sharp eyes found a cluster of rocks that would go completely unnoticed by any but the one who had arranged them. Tucking the bloodied stump of his right arm against himself with a muted groan of pain, he scrambled to the rocks and tossed them out of the way, then began digging. After several minutes he finally uncovered a wide and shallow wooden chest which he wasted no time opening.

Inside were several folded garments and a pair of boots, a violin case, and several other items arranged with great care. Nosh dug desperately through the clothes with his hand, throwing them out onto the dirt in a frantic search. When he finally located the emerald-studded ring at the bottom he brought it to his mouth and held it between his teeth, pushing his middle finger inside and sliding it down to his knuckle. Throwing his head back and staring up at the midday sun, he let out a loud sigh of ecstasy as warmth filled his body, spreading out from his core to all of his extremities.

Close to an hour later Nosh had finished the difficult task of dressing himself one-handed. Using a small mirror he glued a bushy beard of grey horse hair to his face, then placed green crystal lenses into his normally pale blue eyes. He had carefully applied makeup to make his eyes appear sunken and highlight the creases of his face, making him appear at least ten years older. The boots he wore were padded inside to add an extra inch or two to his 6'2" frame, and the clothes were made of a stout material that helped to obscure his wiry physique. He wrapped the traveler's cloak around his neck and dropped the minstrel's hat onto his head, then slung his instrument over his shoulder and got to his feet. Walking casually out of the cluster of trees and into field beyond, he finished untying the loosened rag around his right hand and dropped the bloody cloth on the forest floor. He flexed the fingers of his newly-regrown hand, looked at the emerald ring with a grin, and then turned his gaze ahead. He had no time to waste. Triscon the Fiddler needed to be in Pekal.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

_R.B._

"Green. And Brown. And more Green." The Wizard complained again. He had lost track of the number of briers he had dislodged from his expensive robes over the last several days.

"Shut yer trap, Robertis," called the tall man at the front as he felled another sap from the group's path. "If you've enough energy to constantly complain, we'd all appreciate another set of hands up here."

"It's Robirius," corrected the wizard imperiously, "and I paid good money to be brought on this trip. As such, I see no reason to be doing the grunt work."

The man muttered something Robirius couldn't make out and therefore ignored. One of the two paladins between them, however, quickly moved to wipe his face with his gauntlet. The other, helm strapped to his side, gawked through his unbound golden hair and nearly slipped off the rock he had been stepping up onto. Behind Robirius, Stirnoc chuckled a deep thunder roll.

"How much longer must we trek through this barbarian land?" Robirius inquired.

The paladin with the hair of gold shielded his eyes from the sun and peered into the distance. Looking up, Robirius again noted the man's blue eyes, which glowed with a radiance that seemed otherworldly. Robirius had assumed it was simply a boon his god had bestowed for his dedication.

After a moment, the paladin pointed slightly to the west of their current course. "I can see what remains of the bell tower. The outer wall should be no more than 500 paces, a bit to your west, Nosh."

Nosh used the reverse side of the machete to scratch the back of his neck as he scanned the indicated direction. "Are ya sure? At this distance I should be able to see it myself."

The other paladin patted Nosh's shoulder. "If there is one thing I've learned, it's to trust Gerres' sight."

Gerres blinked and looked at Levin. "I thank you for your compliment, Sir, but you speak too highly of me. My eyesight is merely a gift of The Knight."

Levin smirked at him, "You're too humble, Gerres. It won't kill you to take some deal of pride in your abilities." Turning to Nosh, he stretched out his hand. "I'll take over now so you can begin resting up for your primary roll. The ruins will probably be dangerous; you'll want every fiber of your body fit to deal with them."

"I'll take you up on that offer, Levin," Nosh said as he handed over the weapon and retreated towards the middle of the group.

"It's odd," Robirius mused, "why aren't the trees rotting and the grass withered?"

The party turned towards him, unsure of what he meant.

"Well, normally when approaching these kinds of desecrated sites, the malicious aura has corrupted the surrounding land, causing trees to become gnarled or die, and the grass either dulls in color or disappears all together. Even the air is supposed to be horribly stagnant. But here we are, so close to our destination, and the trees are all perfectly healthy, the grass is full of spring where it grows, and the birds are singing happily. There is definitely something wrong here," Robirius declared raising his chin slightly to accent his certainty.

Further silence met him.

After a long moment, Gerres asked in awe, "Really? Can evil really manifest its will on this plane?"

The rest of the group turned towards him.

"Lad," Stirnoc turned back to Robrirus, smiled, and let an eyebrow rise, "was this opinion born of your personal experiences?"

He knew full well that the young caster was full-blooded noble and had most likely spent all his arcane training at a university or personally tutored.

"Of course not," Robirius scoffed, "however I've heard of the adventures of all the greats, from Sir Timons to Axebeard the Elder, straight from the mouths of the most reputable bards in Kalamar. And in each of their heroic tales, any cultic or otherwise hell-cursed location of dark magics has always spread its corruption to the surrounding lands."

More than one muffled chuckle had begun amidst the listeners. Swelling up with indignity, Robirius seemed ready to spit some foul language until Stirnoc landed a powerful palm on his back, nearly knocking him over. Laughing aloud, Stirnoc consoled the youth.

"Don't mind it, lad. It's not your fault you were born into some globe. It's a bard's job- neigh, their passion- to tell tales of such high adventure and alluring locale. They wished not to trick you, solely to entertain you; I believe it self evident that they completed their mission in full," _and no pun intended there_, he thought to himself with a laugh.

Nosh gave Gerres' shoulder a light punch, "From the looks of it, I don't think you need to worry about anything either. It seems obvious that your god has blessed you and would protect you from evils." He moved past Gerres to lean against a tree.

Gerres looked to Levin for agreement. Arms across his chest, Levin obliged with a smile and a nod. He then turned back to the foliage and started swinging the machete zealously, fueled by the newly established mood and the knowledge that they had nearly reached their destination.

The group arrived at the predicted outer wall in short time. The mason was darkened from age and had black splotches across it from long dead flames. Vibrant creeping ivy sprawled itself silently across the wall while maple and oak saplings seemed to grow directly from the barricade. Other kinds of benign plants grew at the base of the edifice, with moss covering the fragmented top.

Levin and Stirnoc boldly entered the courtyard through a jagged breach in the wall. The other three stealthily lurked through with eyes wary of any kind of possible danger. While the structures in the courtyard were in no better condition than the wall, the ground was mostly open, with only a shrub growing here or a tree there. Grass was ample and just as lush as any field near a populated town. Most of the outbuildings were completely demolished and the main chapel was little more than broken half walls outlining long-ravaged rooms.

Stopping momentarily by a shattered plaque, Gerres turned a large fragment of it over with both hands. Dusting away the dirt and rotten leaves, he fell back in surprise as his mind registered the obscenity that was depicted on it. Horrible forms of torture (or perhaps rituals) were chiseled into its face. On what remained of its base which still jutted from the ground, several other profane acts stood portrayed through the years of grime and weathered stone. There was a savage script etched across it that ignorance saved him from reading; the blasphemy of which could have very well left him in a stupor. Gerres rushed to rejoin the group as he sickeningly noted the fractured face of a dæmonic, broken statue nearby.

As the group neared the front of the church, a black hood they hadn't noticed stood up from an ivy-ensnared stone bench by the entrance. The dark figure seemed to float towards them in his full length cloak. Levin and Stirnoc advanced undeterred, though the rest of the skittish group laid cautious hands on their weapons. Not even when he stood face to face with them did the man move to take down his hood. At close range his face was unobscured by his dress and his tanned skin marked him of reanaarian descent.

"Master Dreks, I presume," Levin greeted, extending a hand.

The man reached up to scratch the back of his head, then jerked and hurriedly reached out to shake Levin's hand. "Yes, yes," he mumbled. "I assume you are Levin then; the one who hired my assistance?"

"That I am. This here is Stirnoc the Sonorous, a wizard like yourself who will be helping us deal with the more difficult magic threats we may encounter." Stirnoc gave a slight bow and happily observed the flash of recognition on Dreks' face. "The tall man next to him is Nosh, the architect and trapsmith I hired for this expedition," Nosh attempted a friendly nod, which turned out to be visibly forced, "and the wizard standing behind him is Robirius. He heard of this venture and offered to pay to come along. He's greatly interested in the school of magic that was practiced here- oh, merely the technicalities of it," Levin quickly corrected himself, "certainly not the vile acts they were used for. Since you have a deep knowledge of this topic, I hope you can get along with him and tell him what you know of it."

Robirius shoved past Nosh and swiftly took Dreks' hand. "Yes, I am certainly looking forward to dialoging with you about the application of summoning magic. It has been my focus for years and I have heard that the Revlerites had nearly perfected its casting."

Dreks seemed a bit shaken by Robirius' sudden advance. "Um, yes. Well. We'll see." He tried a smile but did little more than contort his face into an odd position.

Realizing that he may have overstepped Dreks' comfort level, Robirius took a quick step back. "Oh, I apologize for being so forward. I'm simply very excited for this," he tried to salvage the situation, hoping that he didn't just ruin his chance to get the information he wanted.

"It's alright. I look forward to it as well," Dreks said weakly, trying to smile again and bobbing his head slightly. "It is simply that I haven't had much human contact lately."

Gerres sent the cloaked man a questioning look, though Dreks did not acknowledge it.

Putting a hand on Gerres' back, Levin introduced him, "And this is a new initiate to my order: Gerres Brightwind. He may be a bit inexperienced, but you can feel free to rely on his abilities. He has been greatly gifted by The Knight of the Gods and holds great promise."

Gerres blushed a bit at the praise, but didn't try to retract it. He simply crossed his fist across his chest and bowed, "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Likewise," Dreks muttered and quickly turned away. Despite the humility Gerres strived to maintain, he felt a bit insulted at the curt response.

"After you have rested I will show you to the entrance," Dreks announced as he shifted back to his bench.

Levin noticed the frown Gerres wore and pulled him aside to quietly console him, "Don't let him get to you. From what I've heard, he's a bit of an oddball but he's never done anyone any harm; not intentionally, anyway. Disregarding his personality, everyone I've talked to have named him as the most knowledgeable figure on this topic. He'll be invaluable down there."

"If he's so obsessed with it, why are we taking him? Won't he work against our mission?" Gerres questioned.

"He knows about it because he was part of it, not because he's obsessed with it. From what I've heard he was forced to join the Revlerite cult and has no fond memories of it. He escaped the night before it was destroyed and this is his first time back. As far as I know, anyway. He's probably the only person alive that knows what befell it."

Gerres pinched his blond eyebrows together in confusion. "Even I know what occurred here. The villagers from the hamlets of Townstead, Ridinbeck, and Little Hill rallied against it." He swept a hand in the direction of what was left of the front gate. "They burst through and slew every cultist in the compound. Even among the young only a few were spared."

Looking a bit disappointed, Levin put his hands on his hips, looked at the ground for a moment, then looked back up at Gerres. "Gerres… Do you honestly think that a group of peasants, even one so large, could possibly destroy an entire cult of spell slinging dæmoniacs?"

A look of realization overtook Gerres face, and even though he proceeded to attempt to defend the widely held story, deep down he knew what Levin said was true. "Well, they received aid from the duke. Artillery was used to fell these walls."

"Gerres," Levin sighed and patted Gerres' arm, "I know you're a good man, and you want to trust other people, but there are things that you'll hear that aren't true. Even if everyone in a single town tells you the same story, it may still not be true. It may be, like in this case, simply fabricated to protect everyone. The truth is that every member of this cult was slain _before_ the villagers got here. The stories I've heard say the corpses were simply strewn throughout this place. Inside _and_ outside. They were murdered in ways more savage than even _they_ could have thought up. And they lived their entire lives thinking up new ways.

"I know you're smart, Gerres. I know that I don't have to tell you what probably happened and what probably _didn't_ happen afterwards. As I said, sometimes these stories are made up to protect people. Knowing what you've figured out by now, do you think any sane person could live in this area? Do you think they could live here without constantly glancing over their shoulder? Without staying up all night praying that their fears wouldn't become reality? Do you think they could _ever_ be happy if they knew it was possible? They needed to protect themselves so that they could live on; so their children could live on; so their children's children could. They couldn't survive otherwise."

Gerres stood in silence for a moment, taking it all in. He slowly reached for the length of cloth that constantly hung by his side, decorated by a checkered eye. He held it firmly. His fist was trembling but his almost-burning blue eyes were steadfast as they rose to meet his senior in the faith. "If It still lingers, I will strike it down," he promised. This wasn't the first time that Levin was stunned by Gerres' unearthly presence. All he could do was smile. "Does everyone else know about this?"

Levin slowly shook his head. "I told Stirnoc, but no one else. He's a wise man. He knew that I wasn't only expecting magical traps down there. He's hoping as well that It doesn't exist, but he will be taking precautions using the magic he has at his disposal. With him along, we should be safe and have no problems dispatching it. But for now, sleep well." Levin leaned his forehead against Gerres'. "It may be the last one you have."

***

The group slept peacefully until evening, trusting the various wards Robirius and Stirnoc cast. Thankfully, the sky was overcast, allowing them to adjust to the nearly total darkness that would await them below.

They followed Dreks through what used to be the front doors of the chapel. Picking their way through overgrown debris, which Dreks seemed immune to, they slowly passed through the central hallway to the large sanctuary. Some glass still remained shattered around the edges, but there was no sign of any pews, chairs, or even alter which would indicate this room's purpose. All of them had likely been crafted from wood and had as such rotted after the destruction of the cult. Gerres kept a diligent, though futile, eye out for signs of blood that would leave legacy of the carnage perpetrated here. Any such proof had long since been washed and worn away by the weather.

Dreks stopped about a dozen paces from the back of the sanctuary and started looking quickly at the boundaries of the room. After a moment of doing so, he walked a sporadic circle around where he stood before nearly pouncing on a particular stone slab. Seeing that Dreks was trying to lift the massive thing alone, Gerres, Levin, and Nosh quickly assisted. After a few heaves, they managed to dislodge the slab from the rest of the rubble and revealed a shaft leading straight down into the ground. A rusting, steel ladder was still attached to the wall. Getting onto his knees, Nosh tied his lantern to a length of rope and lowered it down. Even with his arm as far down into the hole as it would reach, Nosh could still barely make out the ground below. Retrieving the lantern and transferring it to a lanyard on his belt, Nosh began his decent into the darkness. Everyone above remained silent and strained their senses to perceive any lurking threat in the unknown abyss Nosh was entering.

Dropping the last couple feet, Nosh scanned the area around him. Seeing no immediate danger, he clicked his tongue three times, the echo signaling the rest to follow. As they descended, Nosh spent his time going over every square foot of masonry, noting its texture and design. This entry tunnel did not hold any especially evil drawings or inscriptions. For the most part, the art was simple draconic and alchemic symbols. It appeared no different from any other magic society's wall coverings.

Nosh reached the steel door opposite the entrance as Stirnoc, the last to descend on his old joints, reached the ground. Nosh began a series of tests that were very familiar to him. He wasn't even through the first set of them, though, when Dreks walked up and put his hand on the knob.

"There are no traps on this door. It is only the entrance to the primary precincts."

Dreks opened the door and strolled through. Nosh felt a bit stung at the sudden intrusion on his work, but reasoned that Dreks was merely doing what he was hired for.

Dreks appeared to become lost in some kind of trance as he entered the next room. It apparently had been perfectly square at one point and the rotted remnants of a fine carpet and shattered vases along the wall told that it had been kept in an orderly fashion. No matter how clean and pretty it had been, that was forever ruined. Part of the roof had caved in on the left, and splintered, yellow bones poked out from beneath the rubble.

There were other fractured skeletons lying in piles all over the room. Unlike above ground, there were no external factors to clean the bloodstains from the walls and floor. There were at least half a dozen skeletons strewn about. Blood streaks on the floor indicated that some of them had been dragged around the room, or perhaps- Nosh thought, disgusted, as he noted the diminutive streaks that extended from the skeletons- something was dragged from the bodies. There were star-like explosions of long gone gore on the walls where bodies had evidently been thrown with great force. Two thresholds stood in the far wall, some decomposing splinters telling what happened to the doors that enclosed them. The spacing of these revealed to Levin that there was likely a third door buried behind the rubble. His imagination wandered in an unholy direction, wondering if any occupants of that room had died before the cave in. And if they hadn't, he hoped that the entire room had been destroyed. How horrible it would have been otherwise.

"This was a cover," Dreks muttered. "Those rooms were the living quarters of the highpriest and his bishops. There should be a secret passage over here."

The whole group moved to the right hand wall as Dreks indicated and began inspecting it. Gerres was inexplicably drawn to the corner closest the entrance. After searching for a bit, he found a small arcane mark carved into the stone. Using a dagger, he started to clear away the grime covering it.

Nosh heard the telltale hum a split second after it started. He hadn't even fully drawn a breath before he was halfway to Gerres. Stirnoc, the only other person to hear it, was barely registering the sound as a ghostly chorus chanting an incantation by the time Nosh reached the paladin. Planting a foot against the wall, Nosh pushed off and tackled Gerres to the ground. Gerres hadn't even noticed Nosh close the distance before he found himself on his back.

A blazing fire explode from the rune, scorching Nosh's back. As he grunted in pain, he saw a pale vibrancy envelope Gerres, partially protecting him from the flame.

_It must be nice to have a god's protection_, Nosh thought spitefully.

Levin, who was the next closest person, was similarly protected, though his light was slightly brighter. He managed to dive mostly out of the way and suffered little more than an uncomfortable burn. Robirius jerked back reflexively and watched as the flaming sphere stopped just short of his face.

Rising from the ground, Nosh spat angrily at Gerres, "Never touch anything that might be trapped! And if we're in a dark, cultic catacomb that is everything!"

Levin lifted the bewildered Gerres to his feet. "I apologize for Gerres, I should have kept a better watch on him because of his inexperience," Levin told Nosh.

He walked over to Nosh, "Hold still." Levin ran his hands down Nosh's back. Nosh shivered as he felt the burned flesh mend itself. Stirnoc walked over next and cast a spell that repaired the burnt tunic Nosh wore beneath his chainshirt.

"Good as new, correct?" Stirnoc asked. Nosh grunted in response but sent Gerres another miserable glance.

While everyone was preoccupied, Dreks had made his way over to the wall. Starring intently at it, he moved to touch it; a movement that drew Nosh's attention.

"What are you doing!?" he roared at Dreks.

Dreks jumped and turned quickly towards the group, hands writhing awkwardly as they tried to lace themselves obediently together.

"There, um, it's." Dreks stumbled over an explination. "A trigger. The trigger. I know it." He cautiously raised his hand.

"A trigger to open the passage _safely_?" Nosh asked.

"Yes." Dreks said quickly.

He shifted his attention carefully between the mark on the wall and the group, trying to ask nonverbally for consent. At length Nosh gave him a nod.

Dreks turned towards the wall. Curious, Levin and Stirnoc moved closer, though the rest of the group hung back. Dreks slapped the mark twice with an open palm, then struck it with the bottom of his fist, and finally licked the full length of the grimy, bloodstained mark. This elicited a queer look from most of the group, though Levin apparently thought the act a bit comical.

Having completed the ritual, the outlines of a door swung open to Dreks' left, where Nosh had been standing. Nosh was initially surprised he had not seen it, though allowed that it had likely been camouflaged with years of dirt and dust.

Nosh took his position at the fore again, using his lantern to carefully search every part of the hallway. After searching the first several feet of the corridor, he abruptly stopped and turned towards Dreks. Dreks appeared startled by the sudden movement and jerked his arm, which was reaching to scratch the back of his neck.

"Do you remember any traps along this way?" Nosh inquired, peering carefully at the black-clad wizard for any signs that would give away a bluff.

"No, no. Of course not. Why would you try to kill your own followers?" Dreks said quickly, his voice shaking a bit.

Aside from the way he said it, Nosh found nothing else suspicious about the statement. He stood up from where he was squatted and walked forward.

"Wait. If you weren't trying to kill anyone, why would the entrance be trapped?" Gerres countered.

"Any true believer would know the entry ritual," Dreks stated, "so the trap would only spring on sneaky little things that were trying to find it." He wringed his skinny, tanned hands.

"It's alright, Gerres," Levin supplied. "I hired Dreks for more security in completing this job. It's his job to know this place well."

Gerres resigned himself, "Very well, Sir Levin."

"One thing yet mentioned," Nosh turned to face the pair of wizards at the back of the group, "I would definitely advise that you choose your magic carefully. Especially you, Stirnoc."

"Aye," the Master of Sound reassured, "I have well noted the decay of the masonry thus far. I certainly will not do anything to compromise the integrity of the structure."

Nosh nodded and began walking down the ancient hallway, giving the walls only a cursory scan for any particularly bad fractures in the stonework, devoting the rest of his attention to the possibility of dangerous vermin or other creatures one normally finds in such ruins. As the rest of the group warily advanced, Gerres motioned Levin to hold back momentarily.

"Wouldn't it be wise to tell the others of the possibility of… It? If Nosh drops his guard at the wrong moment, it could be the end of him."

Levin gave a slight smile and patted Gerres on the shoulder to steady him. "From what I've seen and heard, Nosh is the last person I'd be worrying about. Nonetheless, Stirnoc theorizes that if It was still here, it would be on one of the lowerfloors, closest to our target. Once we get closer, he'll start setting up the wards to protect us. As I said before, with the Master's magical support, we should all make it out of here in one piece."

"Very well," Gerres accepted, though he kept a ready hand on his sword.

Levin noticed that the rest of the group had stopped. By the way the lantern was bobbing in and out of existence, he assumed they had come upon a door on the left side of the hall. As the two of them approached, Robirius chanted a few draconic syllables and crafted a spell that caused his extravagant belt to glow brightly. The second the spell was complete he rushed into the room. The rest of the group followed, leaving Levin and Gerres rushing to catch up rather than be left in the darkness.

When they arrived, they found Robirius excitedly pouring over mold covered tomes. His zeal apparently blinded him to the fact that he was picking them off of a blood-stained slab with the skeleton of its last victim still shackled. The rest of the room was riddled with rusted torture instruments, similarly stained, and lying haphazardly on the ground instead of on their racks. As with the entry room, this cell featured several bloodstains, this time a few on the low ceiling, and shattered skeletons lay all around.

"Stirnoc, as we previously discussed, I'll have you ensure that Robirius only carries out the _appropriate_ books."

Levin made sure to say it loud enough for all to hear; even Robirius who was absorbed in his search and Gerres who was turning pale and overtly stunned by the carnage and mechanical vices. Everyone except Stirnoc turned to face Levin at this sudden restriction.

Levin's voice grew louder as he strolled into the room to begin his speech. He placed his hands behind his back and raised his chin as he would when drilling new soldiers. It was a tendency he had likely picked up from his own superiors. "As promised, you will all be granted your share of the valuable items we discover on this venture. That has not and will not change. However, it is in my opinion that cultic, dæmonic material holds no value neither intrinsically nor on the open market. That being as it is, all such material will be gathered and burned. Robirius, as agreed, will receive any tomes concerning purely extradimensional calling and summoning spells and theories. Stirnoc is granted first pick of any magical equipment or spellbooks that we may uncover. Finally, Nosh is entitled to all the gold, valuable gems, and any loot that can be salvaged for sale. Mr. Dreks received his payment in full before embarking. Anyone breaking their agreement will forfeit their share. Do we all understand?"

There was a momentary silence. Robirius was surprised at first, but must have reconciled that his share was not directly threatened. Stirnoc and Dreks were both impassive, as expected. Nosh digested the information quickly and broke his face with a grin.

"Ah, so that's what your mission is. We're here on a little crusade to rid the world of some little, forgotten evil. It's always something like that for you holy knights, isn't it?"

"No evil is 'little,'" Levin corrected. "It all has the capacity to corrupt and defile the hearts of the innocent."

In the shadowy illumination it was nearly impossible to read Nosh's facial expression, but his reply sounded genuine. "Ah, yes, how true."

While Robirius carefully made his choice of manuals and Nosh picked up a few scattered coins that had been forgotten on the floor, Stirnoc walked over to the corner furthest from the door. Soon after humming the words to a spell, he was raising from the floor and inspecting a narrow shaft at the top of the wall. He reasoned it to have been part of a ventilation network that ran through the whole complex. He breathed in deeply once he had finished softly singing the draconic to a conjuration spell. Blowing sharply, as he would to produce a loud, high pitched note on his pipes, the spell took shape and formed a swift current of air filling the entire shaft. Standing at the door with Nosh's lantern, Gerres jumped in surprise as dust flooded through the door at the end of the passage.

"There," Stirnoc smiled, pleased with his work, "we should now be safe from getting smoked out; that spell should be powerful enough to clear every vent down here."

"Good job," Levin nodded. "We'll begin burning once Robirius has made his selection and Stirnoc has verified it."

Robirius looked up at Levin again, trying to gauge just how strictly he had instructed Stirnoc to examine the writings. Levin maintained a stern visage, which he exerted further when he noticed Robirius staring. In the end, Robirius relinquished 3 of the 4 tomes to the burning pile.

Stirnoc picked up the book that Robirius had elected to keep and drew a wand from his robes. Activating the wand, his eyes glowed yellow and emitted a beam of light. The book he was holding floated out of his hands and stopped directly in the midst of the ray. The front cover flicked open and the pages flipped at great speeds until the back cover was all that remained. At that point, Stirnoc stretched out his hands and pulled the book from where it was suspended. Blinking a few times, the spell ended and he handed the book to Robirius with a merchant's smile.

"This book is clean, though it contains very little about the topic you were hoping for," he told Robirius. "Still, I hope you'll be able to glean something from it."

Robirius stared in amazement. "What was that just now?"

"It was a minor spell that told me the general content of the book it effected, as well as other irrelevant information."

"You'll-"

"- 'have to teach me that spell,'" Stirnoc completed for him. A sly grin crept across his face, "I get that all too often. I've met many impatient wizards in my day; they all somehow think that they don't have enough time, despite evidence to the contrary. Be that as it may, the demand for me to teach this spell has caused its value to rise dramatically. Monetarily, of course."

Understanding that he was about to be extorted, Robirius straightened his robes and put on his well-learned noble demeanor. In fixing the robes, however, Robirius' finger discovered a thorn that had yet to be removed. The highbrowed posture he was adopting changed instantly as he yelp and stuck his forefinger into his mouth. The action drew a snort from Nosh and a chuckle from Levin. Gerres, of course, tried his best to remain piously indifferent. Scowling at Nosh and Levin, Robirius repeated the procedure, this time without sticking himself.

"I rest assured that you fully understand the extend of my resources, and caution that I am aware of just how much inflation such a spell can incur and will not go any further."

"Very well, I will make sure that it is priced appropriately once we get to the matter." Stirnoc was confident he could bend Robirius' reservations despite his declaration.

The remaining books, along with a torn tapestry that had been unraveling in one of the other corners, were burned beneath the air duct which performed as promised.

Moving on to the next room, they repeated the same procedure. This continued for several hours throughout the rest of the rooms on this floor. After the third or fourth, the party relaxed, with the sole exception being Gerres. By the time they had ransacked every room and burned the excess, the group was feeling the effects of the constant alertness they had endured during the first half of the journey. Situated in a room adjacent to the stone stairwell, they all unpacked their bedrolls and elected to use the same watch order they had utilized the day before.

Though the surprisingly dry tunnels beneath the church had been uncomfortably silent while everyone had been awake, Gerres found them unbearably quite once he was the only person conscious. His ears began to play tricks on him and his eyes began hallucinating. He would see movement down the hall where they had come or the shadows of a light radiating from the bottom of the stairwell. Foot steps and scrappings danced as ghosts through his eardrums with the occasional moan accenting the dread he felt. However the moment he moved to investigate any of these, his own steps and slight clanking of his armor removed them from his senses.

At length, when he could bare the silence no more, he resorted to humming the hymns of The Valiant. These bolstered his courage enough to get him through the remainder of his shift. What was in reality a barely audible magical chiming seemed to be far louder and caused Gerres to jump in surprise. That chiming signaled the end of his shift and time for Levin's to begin. After awakening the other paladin and lighting the lantern, Gerres confided in Levin his insecurity.

"This darkness is too terrible," Gerres was visibly shivering though it was not particularly cold. "It is so deep and irreproachable. It is unbearable for myself, who can see in it. I can't possibly understand how much worse it is for you humans who are blinded by it. Your faith must be much stronger than mine to endure it, Sir Levin."

Levin looked at Gerres with a slight degree of pity. "It is because we have endured it all our lives, Gerres. From the time that we are young, even the starry nights seemed too dark. That's something I'm sure you never had to worry about when you were younger. It has nothing to do with our faith. We've just grown accustomed to it. Certainly, we're blind when it's dark; it's just that we try to make the best of it. That's why we have lamps and torches and such. It comforts us and removes the darkness from our immediate surroundings. I know you don't need the lantern to see, but maybe you should keep it lit if you're that uncomfortably."

Gerres took this all into consideration and nodded slowly. The lantern did in fact make him feel a little better, though it could be attributed to Levin's presence as well.

"I believe I will. I thank you for your wisdom, Sir Levin."

"No thanks required, Gerres. You've gone through a lot that you weren't used to today. I wish I could do more to thank you for your dedication."

"The Knight rewards those who are courageous for his cause in due time. You have no need to feel indebted to me. I'll take my leave now to rest."

"Good night, friend. Rest well."

Levin's shift, the last one, passed without event. As the group moved towards the second floor, they opted for more light, as the lack of any direct threat was apparent and they could move around more freely with a greater amount of visibility. After clearing the first three cells, they became even more bold and opted to split their force to more quickly clear the rooms. Levin and Robirius took all the rooms that opened on the left, while Gerres and Dreks took the rooms on the right. Nosh took his time in each room collecting his goods, and Stirnoc went through the piles that Robirius and Dreks (as Robirius' proxy) gathered to ensure they were "clean." The added factors of divided labor and increased reassurance saw the completion of the larger second floor in half the time of the first.

Nosh had gathered three full sacs of assorted coins and salvageable goods. Robirius' collection had grown to over ten tomes, several of which were thick and Stirnoc promised contained much lore. In the time that Stirnoc had spent searching between scanning Robirius' books he had found a trio of wands, a staff, a rod, and several apparently rare material components in vials. He neglected to mention how any of the items he found functioned.

All in all, the majority of the group was pleased with this expedition. Levin was in a good mood and seemed contented that he was overseeing the destruction of so many profane works. Robirius had not been without a book in his hand since the very first room was raided. Stirnoc was busy examining and making minor alterations to his new equipment and Nosh kept talking grandly of his future schemes and aspirations. The only people who were not in an especially good mood were Dreks, who was constantly staring into space, and Gerres. Unlike the rest of the group, Gerres did not acclimate himself to the horrible inscriptions and chipped paintings that decorated the cracked walls. Every time he entered a room, his face would contort at the blasphemies that it held and he would immediately go about defacing the inscriptions or piling whatever could be burned under the vent. Many times Dreks or Nosh had to stop him from torching the tomes before they could be sifted through. And when he wasn't busy destroying such things, Gerres kept a hand on his hilt and was looking further down the hall, as if expecting something.

It was as they reached the bottom of the second flight of stairs in the secret labyrinth that Nosh began to notice a change.

It began when Levin had pulled Stirnoc and Gerres away from the rest of the group for several minutes. By the way that Dreks was starting to fidget randomly and kept constant watch over his shoulder Nosh assumed that Levin had caught him trying to do something against the party's agreement. However, when the group returned there was no condemnation of the dark robed wizard nor did anyone keep a careful eye on him. Furthermore, while Gerres previously had a certain air about him, it seemed to be augmented, or supplemented, by something else; Stirnoc's presence suggested magic.

After the meeting, Gerres restrained himself from participating in the desecration of any of the rooms and instead stationed himself in the hallway, staring off into the darkness as if he could see what was ahead without a torch. Starting with this floor, Dreks would make sure to arrive at the rooms before anyone else. Before skimming any of the books, he would quickly gather them all and glance at their covers before throwing them over towards the door. Stirnoc's spell component pouch was worn in plain view now rather than being kept inside his robe, but beyond that he and Levin acted normally.

As Nosh began to move past Gerres to get a head start on the next room, a heavy gauntlet landed on his shoulder.

"I don't think it's prudent to leave the rest of the group," Gerres told him. Nosh could tell it was more of a command than a suggestion.

Certain now that something was wrong, Nosh felt anger rise within him. He hated not knowing everything about a situation. "Kid, I haven't even seen a mouse down here, let alone anything we need to worry about!" His outburst brought Levin into the hall. "I've kept my eyes on everything- and I mean everything- and have not seen one piece of evidence that would signify that anything has moved down here in at least a decade!" And with that, Nosh shrugged Gerres' hand off and stormed towards the next room.

Panicking, Gerres grabbed Nosh's arm in a tight grip. "Just because there hasn't been anything so far doesn't mean that something isn't still here. Maybe… I don't know… there's a trap or something. We should stay as a group just in case."

Levin had upped his pace and was nearly upon the two. In a violent motion Nosh tore his arm from Gerres' restraint and leveled a condemning finger at Levin. "What is going on here, Levin? Since the three of you disappeared this lad's become even more paranoid! What is going to happen?"

Levin jerked to a stop and kept his composure well in check. He signaled Gerres and Nosh to calm down. He spoke as calmly as he could to defuse the situation. "I apologize, Nosh, this is my fault. I noticed how sloppy we were getting with both carrying out the mission and keeping an eye out for our safety. I consulted with Stirnoc about this, bringing Gerres along because it's my duty to teach him these kinds of things as you've undoubtedly gathered. Stirnoc agreed that from a professional standpoint we were certainly doing things all wrong. While Dreks has promised us that there are no traps after that first one, Stirnoc also doesn't want to trust the integrity of the structure, and thinks that a cave-in could be possible if the masonry got any more decayed. Since you had yet to mention it, I figured we were safe for now and simply put Gerres on watch so that he could get a handle for how these things are supposed to proceed. I'm afraid that I may have frightened him a bit more than intended when I expressed to him the kind of dangers that are possible in these settings. Please understand that he is simply acting overzealously because he wants to do his job well."

Levin turned to Gerres. "Gerres, there is no need to worry about Nosh; he is a seasoned professional and highly regarded as an architect. He'll be the first one to know if a cave-in is possible and I'm sure he's capable of avoiding any trap that may accidentally spring. However," Levin turned back to Nosh, "if I could beg of you that you not wander too far ahead so Gerres doesn't have to worry. It's a favor I would greatly appreciate. Even if I tell Gerres not to worry about you, I'm sure he still will."

Nosh went over every word spoken and every gesture Levin made twice. After staring deeply through Levin for a long moment, he seemed satisfied with the explanation. Nodding, he walked passed Levin towards the previous room. "Alright then, I must be getting uppity too. It _is_ damn unnerving down here. I'll respect your wishes and wait for the rest of the group. I still have sorting and inventory of my loot to do anyway. If the rest is going to dilly dally like this, I may as well not waste any time waiting for them."

"Thank you for understanding, Nosh," Levin said.

Robirius had wandered out to investigate at some point and still stood staring down the hall, book well in hand.

"Is there something wrong?" he inquired.

"No, nothing at all. It just seems that this place is making us all a little uncomfortable."

"Oh," Robirius looked around the hall as if for the first time, "I guess it is a little oppressive down here, isn't it." And with that, he went back to reading his newest tome and walked blindly back into the room.

"Don't try to stop him if he tries to go ahead again," Levin whispered to Gerres. "We don't need to get anyone worried about It. Nosh will be fine."

The third floor was completed at a slightly slower pace, but nothing out of the ordinary occurred. Nosh stayed true to his word and spent his extra time organizing his loot and taking notes in a ledger he had brought. Before descending to the fourth floor, Stirnoc stopped the group.

He grinned at Robirius who once again dropped a manuscript from the obscenely large pile he was carrying. He then looked to Nosh who, despite his great height, was carrying bags that nearly scrapped the floor. Considering this a good point to introduce a new spell, he drew a miniature box from his robe and weaved magic around it. The air around it pulsed and within a few moments a much larger version of the box appeared at his feet.

"Leomund's Secret Chest," Robirius identified, impressed. "That's a summoning spell I've been trying to learn for a few years now."

Stirnoc nodded, "That it is. If you would all like to relieve yourselves of your burdens, I'll happily store them in this chest. I can guarantee they will be perfectly secure and you can retrieve them once we reach the surface."

"For a service fee, of course," Nosh scoffed, though he was good natured about it.

"Of course."

Nosh sighed and let his bags fall to the ground with a thud. "Well, how much will it be, dragon's tongue?"

"A mere hundred gold pieces will suffice for storing the entirety of your loot. Actual coins, I don't like dealing in goods."

"And how much will the retrieval fee be?"

Stirnoc laughed, "I was hoping to save that for later, but well caught. A simple hundred gold under the same restrictions will suffice for that."

"Easily done," Robirius stated as he placed his tomes directly into the chest, "assuming you'll accept payment after I have returned to my father's house."

"That will be fine. Though I trust you will be aware that I cannot make the same provisions for you, Nosh."

"I'm well acquainted with business and would expect no less."

Once the treasure had been stored and whisked back to the pocket dimension from whence it came, the group continued down the crumbling stone steps. Unlike the rest of the hidden confines, this floor was noticeably damper and the temperature dropped several degrees. The roof was several feet higher and carved with art even more profane than the upper levels. The stonework was much less stable and scarred by what appeared to be weapons. Seeing that Nosh was closely investigating one such mark, Dreks explained.

"This is the floor that the Revlerites preformed their most famous deeds."

"The summonings," Robirius whispered in awe.

"Yes." Dreks raised an unsteady hand to scratch the back of his neck then jerked it away. "This is the last floor. Once this floor is cleared it is all over. There will be a room on the left and right of this hall. The arc at the end leads to the summoning vault. Beyond that there are two more rooms kept for interrogation and experimentation. Those are the only rooms on this floor."

Receiving a nod from Levin to advance, Nosh made his way down the hall. Before he had reached the two opposing rooms that Dreks predicted, Stirnoc called out.

"Wait," he could tell there was something wrong here. He cast a detection spell and stood focusing on the space ahead of him for nearly a full minute. His expression shifted from confusion, to surprise, and finally fear as the time passed. "There's an anchor on this floor," he told Dreks. "Transportation and summoning magic has been barred from here."

"Yes," Dreks confirmed, "it is a precaution to ensure that the specimen did not escape or bring allies with it. There is an artifact structure ahead called the Summoning Vault that breaks the anchor for a moment when the creature is summoned. It then replicates a magic circle to restrict the creature while magical bindings are cast on it. Once those bindings are secure, the creature is transported to one of the two rooms I mentioned."

"If the Revlerites did such things to the creatures they summoned, why did others continue to answer their spells?" Stirnoc questioned.

"They never returned to their kind. All the creatures summoned were destroyed after they served their purpose. Even if its comrades became suspicious, they would still answer. As everyone knows, Revlerites were the most advanced and dedicated summoners on this plane."

Before the words even formed in Gerres' mouth, Nosh's acute senses told him of the impending danger. In that fraction of a moment, he was already diving away, knocking Levin over in the process.

"Look out!" Gerres yelled as Nosh and Levin tumbled to the ground. A giant, clawed hand rent the darkness where Nosh had just been standing.

"Too late boy!" Nosh barked.

Gerres leapt between the two prone members and the creature that had suddenly attacked. His sword already unsheathed, he prepared to strike at the creature.

"Stop!" Stirnoc commanded. "If you attack the ward will be dispelled!"

Gerres gritted his teeth and held himself at bay.

The giant creature ahead was wrapped in a quasi-real miasma, making it difficult to discern the specifics of its shape. As best as anyone could tell, its legs were thick as young trees and its arms menacingly large. The palm of its hand was overly long as were its meaty fingers.

The creature reared back and swung with its massive arm. The claw bounced of the ward Stirnoc had previously cast on Gerres, which glowed white momentarily to reveal its shape as a large sphere. Seeing that its attacks would be deterred, the creature let out a roar. Doing so, the blood red and pitch black fog that enveloped it burst forth in all directions. Gerres realized that the ward and protection of The Valiant did little to hold the aura at bay and stumbled backwards. Unfortunately, he was not quick enough and trembled as the mist sucked away at his life. He crumpled to one knee, choked, and threw up the blood that had burst into his lungs. He barely heard Levin yell or felt the hands that clamped onto his body. Within a moment he was pulled back from the brink of death by the healing of The Knight.

Wiping the blood from his mouth and thanking Levin, Gerres regained his feet and looked up at the abomination with all the holy hatred he could muster. In response, the creature let forth a hideous laugh that rattled the walls. Spells lanced passed Gerres' head from Robirius and Dreks, sizzling into nothingness without scratching the creature. Stirnoc's spelled dissipated before it even completed and he cursed the anchor that stopped him from dismissing the demon from the place.

Speaking in a grating voice, the demon said something to Gerres in a mocking tone.

"Does anyone speak abyssal?" Levin asked.

"It's not abyssal," Dreks offered.

Gerres screamed something back at the creature, though the way the words formed from his mouth made it seem like a completely different language. They sung out in tones of light and purity.

"A devil then," Nosh said, "who speaks infernal?"

"It's not infernal," Dreks sighed. "I don't know what it's saying."

"Then wh-"

"It's celestial," Robirius said, dumbstruck. "Their both speaking celestial."

Pausing for a moment, Nosh found that he was right. Despite how corrupted and stained it was, the demon was actually speaking the same language as Gerres.

A trio of spells rippled through the air past Nosh, Levin, and Gerres. All three struck home this time, leaving the hidden creature's posture visibly slackened. Robirius shouted of their success while Stirnoc and Dreks went immediately into the casting of another spell.

The creature haltingly continued to taunt Gerres in a wheezing breath. This final taunt struck an even deeper chord in Gerres. He rattled off a viscous string at the beast and threw off his heavy shield, causing it to laugh. It replied again and made a motion with its cloaked hands. Stirnoc and Dreks' spells came to life; Dreks' fizzled again but the one cast by Stirnoc tore through the creatures natural protections. It did not groan, but stumbled backwards none the less. It repeated its previous statement at the seething Gerres.

At long last, Gerres could no longer restrain himself. He charged the monstrosity screaming in the secret language the two shared. The advance caused Stirnoc's protection to shatter like ethereal glass but he would not slow. His sword became sheathed in the white flame of purity and he jumped at the creature. Its aura tore into Gerres, but otherwise the creature did not move. Instead, as Gerres slid his sword into demon's chest, it whispered into his ear.

The mist dissipated and the outsider's body exploded in a rain of gore that coated the entire hallway. Sickened by being bathed in the blood, Robirius turned into the corner and heaved. The spilt fluid began to dissolve after a few minutes, simply evaporating into the void without further harm. Even after it had all disappeared, Gerres was left bloody on the ground. Everyone sat in silence for a time, trying to settle themselves. It was Gerres who was the first to rise, despite his tattered form. He placed a hand on his own chest and felt the healing powers of The Knight of the Gods surge through him.

"I did it," he whispered. Gaining strength he spoke louder. "I did it! I slew a demon! I did it!"

He danced around shaking the others who were still deep in thought. Levin was the next to recover from the ordeal.

"Yes, you did. You have done a great deed for the Evil Slayer today," he clasped the energetic youth's forearm.

"That's right! I did do it! This is only a first! You'll see! I'll prove my strength and slay even more demons!" Gerres squeezed Levin's arm with vigor.

Levin was a bit surprised at the declaration, but did not correct him. Levin had been trying long and hard to bestow confidence in his comrade. He didn't want to crush that right now. He would correct Gerres' pride and curb his excess confidence when this was all over. Hopefully it would deflate within the next couple of days. He would wait at least a week to make sure that Gerres was emotionally stable enough to have a real talk. But for now he would let him enjoy it.

Nosh saw Robirius staring at Gerres, but before he could say anything, the wizard declared, "I knew there was something strange about you!" Robirius walked over to stand directly in front of the startled Gerres. "You're an assimar! It took me a moment to understand what that thing meant when it called you 'tainted blood,' but that's what he meant."

Levin was about to intercede, but was shocked as Gerres spoke up for himself.

"Yes, I am blessed with the blood of a celestial. It was my gift at birth from The Valiant. Beyond being _slightly_ superior, I am certainly still human. If you are thinking of grouping me with other halfblood degenerates, I would that you refrain."

Just as surprised as everyone else by Gerres' sudden growth of a backbone, Robirius nodded with his mouth wide open, hoping that something intelligent would come out.

"A-u-oh! Of course not! It's just that I was surprised! That's all! It is a honor to have personally met someone with blood ties to the outerspheres. I only wish I could have been talking to you all along about the cosmology and other planar… stuffs."

And with that Robirius nodded and went back to the stairs where he sat down to read one of his new books. Though Gerres was trying to keep it in check, Nosh, Levin, and Stirnoc all chuckled as they saw him further inflating with pride. Gerres, hearing the snickers, lifted his chin a bit and turned towards the archway.

"I will go on to search ahead. That should be the last thing we need to worry about. I'll be back after I ensure that it is safe ahead." Gerres cast a powerful light spell, which would have been impossible if he was a fullblooded human, and walked away.

Though the words sounded sincere, the whole party could tell that Gerres was lying. Nosh moved to follow him, but Levin stopped him. The party, with the exception of Dreks who quickly stepped into the right hand room to start pilfering, crowded around Robirius.

"What did that creature say to Gerres?" Levin asked.

Robirius looked up from his tome surprised. He stumbled through a couple excuses and settled upon, "I would be damned if I said those words." Which the group, only slightly surprised, accepted.

"Do you have any idea where he is going?"

"I do not, but the beast said something right as it died. I'm not a lip reader and even if I was, it would likely be impossible to read _that_ things lips, you know."

"Alright, thanks Robirius. You can go ahead and start clearing these rooms when you're ready."

With that, Levin took Nosh's lantern and ran down the hall after Gerres. As he passed through the arch, he saw the vibrant glow of Gerres' spell coming from a hallway in the far left corner. Propelled by a sinking feeling in his gut, Levin stumbled across the rubble strewn floor of the great hall, focused on catching up to Gerres as soon as possible. Once he had entered the connecting tunnel, he heard a horrible moaning that made his soul cloud. To him, it sounded as the torture of a hundred innocent children.


End file.
